Journey into a Secret World
by KnightwithaPassion
Summary: A bit of a fic about the MMORPG called "The Secret World" with a small amount of artistic flair, as you may expect :) So whilst it isn't EXACTLY concordant with TSW plotlines, its pretty close. Please Read and Review, I cant wait to hear from you all! DFTBA!
1. What Goes Bump in the Night

Good Morning Everyone, KnightWithAPassion here, with a new up and coming story/novel/something.  
Now, just some clarification with this part, the sections in the /bits/ are a narrative, so think of it like a Narrator is talking over the scene being described by the parts outside of the /bits/.  
Thanks for reading :) And if the first few bits get alot of positive feedback, ill keep writing to my hearts contempt ^_^  
DFTBA all!

* * *

On a solemn rooftop, standing alone in a city full of innocence and life, stood a man.

/You know, there is a reason people stay scared./

The dull red of his garb contrasted against the shifting turmoil of the night sky, radiating strength and hope.

/Why parents tell their children about the monster under the bed,/

On his shoulder, a large white cross stood out against the crimson armour, unmistakable and undeniable.

/Why we keep a light on to hold the darkness at bay,/

On his belt, a blade forged by skilled hands hung weightlessly by his hip, seeming to be willing to leap into his hand at a moment's notice.

/There is a reason we are afraid of the dark./

His eyes radiated grief, full of pain and turmoil, as dynamic as the sky he stood beneath; tired and weary from all he's seen.

/Because monsters are real./


	2. London - The Beast

Good Morning Beekeepers!  
Quick announcement, ive recently decided to do a 'small' overhaul in the current content, so ill be updating all the chapters from here on in.  
For all you new readers, theres nothing to see here O:) Move along.

Hope you all enjoy the new and hopefully improved content, both new and old readers alike. Dont forget to R&R.

And remember, everything is true.

* * *

Dmitri strode down the deserted suburban street, the chill spring air set his ash-blonde hair on edge as it pierced him to the very bone. Normally he would shrug this weather off, his heritage rendering his body resistant to the cold. But this feeling was different.

He glanced around, something in the back of his mind told him that someone was watching him. Dmitri saw a figure standing on a rooftop a block ahead of him, the figure unmoving and unnerving. Suddenly, the figure vanished from Dmitri's vision, as if it was never there. He shrugged the idea aside and continued to walk down the road to the train station, his pace increasing slightly. As a fighter, Dmitri's well-built body easily compensated for the change in speed, his breathing slight out of fear, rather than exertion.

Dmitri turned the corner, veering down an alley way that would cut the total time of his trip down considerably, cutting through the block rather than traversing its perimeter.

He walked quickly down the alley, About 30 meters into the alley, his acute hearing detected some movement, catching it in the corner of his eye; but when he turned he saw no evidence of the movement. Shrugging the idea aside, he continued walking, keeping his center of mass low to make walking at speed easier.

Dmitri heard a low growl in the shadows behind the dumpster, much like a wild dog protecting its home. Dmitri kept walking away from the dumpster and picked up a large metal pipe along the way, he spun the pipe in his hand, sensing the weight and balance of the makeshift weapon: it was heavier than he was used to, but it was better than nothing. As Dmitri walked farther down the alley, the noise followed his every step.

He jumped back when a large chunk of debris was hurled in front of him. Pipe raised and stance steady, his weight concentrated on the balls of his feet, Dmitri called "Who's there?" out into the darkness. From out of the same darkness a long, thin hand with sharp fingers reached out towards the lone man, gripping the ground and pulling the rest of its form forward.

A face emerged from the blackness, its pale complexion contrasting heavily against the jet black of the darkness and that of its sunken eyes, holding glowing blood red orbs that stared deep into Dmitri's Arctic blue eyes, piercing him to his very soul. The creature's teeth long and sharp in its small mouth, its chin sharp and dangerous. The veins under its skin were black as night and pulsing, it's left cheek covered in a spider web like pattern of obsidian.

A shiver ran down Dmitri's spine, his battle-hardened heart frozen in his chest, his stance fracturing, and before he could recover from this feeling the thing pounced. The creature had is arms outstretched, reaching to claw its prey's heart out. His training and will abandoning him, Dmitri swung his pipe in a wide and desperate swing, hitting it clean on the side of its sharp, long head.

Dazed and prone, the thing hit the alley wall with force enough to wind it. After a moment it rose to its feet and lunged at its prey once again. Hunger and hatred in its eyes, and something more. Pure evil.

Dmitri rose the pipe to defend himself, holding it between himself and the beast. Despite the fear and the horror that he faced, he could feel the familiar style grip in his hands, bringing clarity to his mind at the memory of his old blade.

The creature hit Dmitri like a tidal wave, knocking him off his feet and onto his back. The thing gripped the pipe with both hands and tried to sink its razor sharp teeth into its prey's exposed neck. Dmitri attempted to fight it off but its unnatural strength was overwhelming, rejecting any attempt to fend it off, constantly beating down against his defences, its teeth slowly getting closer to Dmitri's flesh with each moment.

A large spray of blood hit Dmitri, but he was surprised when he felt no pain, he thought 'is this what it feels like to die?' He looked down in an attempt to find the wound the thing had inflicted upon him, but found nothing. The blood was not his, it was the creatures.

A large blade stuck out from the things side, piercing its heart. A large boot kicked the corpse away and a gloved hand offered to help him up.

Dmitri stood on his feet, Adrenalin still pumping through his system as he held his makeshift weapon in front of him in a defensive stance, he looked his rescuer up and down. His large body covered in red leather with black and white detailing, a large cross on both his shoulders, and a bloody sword in his hand. "What was that thing?" He asked, his breathing heavy and voice hoarse.

"Nothing you have to worry about." The man sheathed his blade at his hip, then brought his hand up to Dmitri's forehead and lightly tapped it. The youth went limp and collapsed into the man's arms, completely unconscious.

Dmitri woke with a sudden shock, rising from his horizontal position rapidly. Around him, he saw a hospital bed and other medical equipment, his mind felt fuzzy and blurred, as though he was seeing an image on a foggy day. His heart raced in his chest as Adrenalin burst through his system, the feeling seeming familiar but unable to remember exactly where he felt this way before.

A nurse briskly entered the room, the medical equipment beeping constantly, mirroring the beat of his heart. She moved to the bedside and gently pushed down on Dmitri's chest, lowering him slowly back onto the bed, her other hand manipulating a control that lifted the head of the bed up into an elevated position. The entire time Dmitri could see her lips moving, but heard nothing, his ears filled with white noise and static.

After a few moments, Dmitri was snapped back into focus by a bright light shining suddenly into his right eye, the flash repeated three times before it shone into his left. He shook his head and shut his eyes, shying away from the assault on his eyes. He could now hear a woman's voice, presumably the nurse, saying "Sir, are you okay?"

His attention back in the moment, Dmitri nodded, his heart still beating erratically in his chest. "What happened?" He mumbled loudly, his clouded mind having limited control of his muscles.

"You were found outside the hospital, covered in blood. Do you remember how you got there?" She said, her tone calm and reassuring, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder.

"Blood?" Dmitri tried to remember back to last night, thinking something like that would be impossible to forget. As he probed his memory for the event in question, he saw nothing but a void of static, a strange static that reminded him of television static from his childhood. His heart froze in his chest, the equipment to his flank beeping erratically.

"Nothing." He said more coherently, "I remember nothing."


	3. London - Recovery

Good Morning Beekeepers!  
Yet another updated chapter, yay ^_^  
Hopefully now ill have less grammatical errors, but thats hoping a bit much.

Hope you all enjoy it, and dont forget to R&R.  
Remember, everything is true.

* * *

Dmitri was kept under observation for a few hours, the medical staff on duty unwilling to release him until 10 in the morning because of both how early the night was, and in case he remembered anything regarding the circumstances surrounding his appearance in front of the hospital.

He walked out of the hospital with a heavy gate, his body somewhat unresponsive even after the hours spent in recovery. His clothing and personal affects; nothing but his phone, wallet, and simple clothing with a leather jacket; returned to him after being cleaned. Dmitri hailed a Taxi to take him home.

Upon returning to his apartment, he didn't feel like doing anything, productive or otherwise, his head still clouded and his body groggy after he woke up in that hospital bed. He got a glass of water and sat down in his living room, sparingly drinking the liquid. As he sat, Dmitri raked his mind for whatever information he could about what happened the night before, how he got to the hospital, or how he became 'covered in blood' as the nurse put it.

His residential apartment was fairly simple for a student with a moderately paid job: TV, couch, kitchen, single bedroom, and single bathroom, with joint laundry facilities among his building. Whilst it was simple, it was all he could afford or need as he finished his studies. And with his hobbies, as well as the lack of sufficient financial support, he couldn't afford to spend extra money on other luxuries.

A small red flash appeared in the corner of Dmitri's eye, he turned to see his answering machine, the light informing him of recordings saved into its system. Dmitri pressed the playback button and put his glass of water on the table before placing his head in his hands, his eyes closed.

The darkness behind Dmitri's eyes was no stranger to the youth, frequently the swirling vortex of shades giving him an insight to his state of mind. But when he looked into the blackness, the vortex seemed irrational and erratic, seeming to have a mind of its own, rather than bending to his will. Behind the veil of darkness, Dmitri could have sworn he could see a pair of eyes glaring back at him, but each time he tried to focus on the image, it was dismissed into the vortex until his mind started drifting again.

The sound of the answering machine faded into background noise, the static of his mind entrancing him into the darkness that hid behind his eyes, the world began to slip away from the youth as he tried harder and more intently on understanding the phantom that hid behind his eyes.

A loud, low pitched tone pulled Dmitri from the brink of his trance. He turned to the door before hearing the set of tones again. Realising it was the doorbell, he rose and to answer it.

"Come on then, get up! Its only 10:30, we're going to be late!" She said, her voice verging on shouting, but remaining tolerable. Her name was Annabeth and she was one of his closest friends. Her dark crimson hair in a single plait that hung over her shoulder, and her clothing covered in hearts as usual. Dmitri wasn't sure why, but the crimson of her hair reminded him of something, but he still couldn't pierce the fog covering his mind. "Don't tell me you just woke up?" Her cheer was admirable, almost envious.

"Sadly not Anna, I'm not feeling too well. Make sure to get notes for me, yea?" He said, leaning against the door slightly as something moved in the shadows behind her, seeming to look like a long fingered hand.

"You didn't get drunk last night, did you? You know, for one of the smartest people in our class, and one of the most responsible in our warband, you'd think that you would take school a little more seriously." Her tone didn't change, ecstatic and vibrant, but with a hint of playful condescension.

"No it wasn't that, it was just a rough night is all." He leant against the door a little more, his eyes occasionally drifting to the shadow by Annabeth's leg, the dark hand reaching out for her leg. His eyes shot up and discarded the idea, blaming his imagination for overacting.

"Are you sure you're ok?" Her vibrant tone diminished, replaced by a more concerned voice, the voice of a woman who cares deeply about her friend. Her hands casually moving up and stroked her plait, a quirk that Dmitri knew to be one of true concern for those around her.

"I'm sure, I'll tell you all about it later. Now go to class or else you'll be late." He looked back down and noticed that the shadow was gone. Sighing quietly with relief, he looked back up and smiled to Annabeth, feigning stability and comfort.

"You know, you're also a terrible liar. But I can take a hint." She grabbed his arm and pulled him into a constricting hug before releasing him and starting to walk down the corridor to the lift. Her gait was that of confidence and grace, with no lost momentum with each movement. "If anything happens, you know where to find me, and I'll come running. Ill drop by tonight, okay?"

"You don't have to, I'm fine. But thanks." He smiled again, this time a little more confidently. "Have fun in class." He waved before closing the door behind him.

He sighed, exhaling till the world's spinning ground to a halt, beginning again as his lungs rebelled and drew in fresh air.

Grudgingly, the youth shambled to his bedroom and fell onto his bed. He glanced over his shoulder and noticed that his window was open, the curtains billowing in the light wind. His will told him to close it so he can sleep, but his muscles defied him and he lay there, completely prone.

The darkness encroached on Dmitri's sight and his room slowly fell away from him, the darkness of unconsciousness greeting him eagerly.


	4. London - The Dreamer

Good Morning Beekeepers!  
You know the drill :P This one, actually wasn't really changed in the slightest  
But feel free to R&R it anyway ^_^

Remember, Everything it True, which is a pain cause that also includes demon children

Gods, I have had nightmares about those O.o Still, carry on...

* * *

Dmitri sprawled across his bed, sheets discarded and haphazardly piled around him as he lay prone on his stomach. A gust of wind billowed through the window and threw the curtains into a rage.

A small object entered through the open window, a low buzz emitting from its insectoid wings. The bee lazily hummed around the room until it found its target, the youth laying prone in the bed; the insect flew to his mouth and crawled between his lips.

Dmitri woke, standing, fully clothed, in his dreamscape; the ground cracked and desolate, the skies in turmoil. His ears could detect a faint buzzing that was just in his range of hearing, but he could not determine if it was a creature or if it was white noise.

"You will see the end of days." A loud deep voice called, but Dmitri could not find an obvious source or direction no matter which way he turned. "You will see the dawning of a new age."

Dmitri tried to call out, tried to say "Who are you?" but nothing escaped his lips. His voice had abandoned him.

"To be a monarch, or a beggar." Dmitri looked frantically for the voice, his narrator. "To lose everything, or become a god."

Dmitri's heart skipped a beat in his chest, then he calmed down, actively trying not to twitch or flinch. This was his dreamscape – he was in control.

"To stand with us, or against us. The choice is yours. Remember this."

The hair on the back of the dreamer's neck stood on its ends. Dmitri sensed a presence but couldn't see anything to his flanks or before him.

"Be mindful of the voices;" a voice sounded behind the youth; he turned to see a woman in a white gown. Her hair a fair brown and her voice soothing. "Listen to the voices;" A new voice came from the other side of the youth: A man with dark brown hair and a black suit, his voice smooth and charming. "They will whisper in your sleep." They echoed, the woman a beat before the man, putting them moments out of synchronization.

"You are with the chosen," They said, the woman still a moment before the suited man. "But you must choose for yourself." She concluded, whereas the man stated "but you must make the right choice."

"You are cursed with free will," They said, the man leading, "we are here to guide you to the light." He said. "It is not my place to intervene, but then;" she utters.

"This is merely a dream. Make the right choices." They say, the woman leading by a moment once again. The buzzing sound began to get louder as a swarm of bees appeared and surrounded Dmitri, lifting him off the ground somehow. "But be mindful of the voices," They said. "For they corrupt." She said calmly, whereas the man finished with "for they speak the truth." The corner of his mouth lifted slightly in a smirk, so small a change that neither of his companions noticed.

The bees began to fly into Dmitri's mouth, swarming inside him. Their actions snapped the youth awake, and he sat up instantly, coughing frantically to clear his throat of the insects.

Dazed and confused, Dmitri shook his head aggressively to try to purge the groggy feeling from his mind, feeling unusually strange, the fog clouding his mind beginning to clear. A chill ran down his spine, goose bumps appearing across his body, the wind from his window chilling him to the bone.

He reached for the jumper hanging on the chair by the foot of the bed, intending to put it on for warmth. As he reached out, he could feel his fingertips and arm slightly and start to tingle; the warmth spread evenly throughout his hand. Suddenly a bolt of energy erupted from his hand and struck the jacket, setting it ablaze.

Dmitri flinched, pulling his hand back from the flames. Strangely, it didn't look like the jacket itself was burning, and the flame flickered with a light blue hue rather than the reds and orange of conventional fire.

The youth reached out again to the flame out of curiosity; as soon as his hand approached the flame, it was snuffed out, almost as fast as it ignited.

Over the course of the next four days, Dmitri trashed his apartment, both in exploration but also in panic. At approximately noon on the third day, Dmitri experienced an event unlike any other he could imagine. He could feel energy exploding around him, violent bursts of raw power erupting randomly in all directions around him, further disrupting the already fragile balance of his apartment; soon after the first outburst he could feel himself lifted from his fetal position and hovering above the ground; a phenomenal quantity of energy beamed out from his eyes and mouth as the power erupted from his body.

Soon after that outburst, Dmitri noticed that his powers came to him more easily, more frequently and less randomly. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye he could see a shade materialize against the wall, a shape familiar to the youth, but one that shocked him to his core. Pale white skin with obsidian veins across its face, long clawed fingers, and a dark sunken pair of eyes filled with hunger and hatred; Dmitri summoned a ball of flame, the element searing his flesh, and hurled it at the beast. The shadow disappeared the moment the flame touched it, but no burn marks were left on the wall, nor on Dmitri's hand as he clenched it out of pain. He glanced around his apartment and could see more shadows take form of his nightmare; he conjured a fireball in each hand and began to destroy these beastly images, regardless of the pain his hands felt. With each shadow he destroyed, more images rushed into his mind: a cold, dark night; a shadowy alley way; the impending death he was denied; and a figure in crimson garb, with black detailing and a large, white cruciform on his shoulder.

On the fifth day, his powers had calmed down a bit. The youth seemed to gain more control over them. Dmitri stood in the centre of his apartment, his belongings scattered chaotically around him a small ball of blue fire sat in his hand, its warmth no more than a minor sensation against his skin. He juggled the small ball of flame, tossing it between his hands, getting a feel for the energy. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.


	5. London - Recruitment

Good Morning Beekeepers! Now that youve actually met the Bees, theyre tricky beings  
Not allowed to interfere, even when the troublemaking bees interfere? Its... weird  
Still, they aren't all bad I swear! xD I guess youll have to read and take my word for it.  
Well, as usual, dont forget to R&R, and I hope you like this chapter, cause I know I dont /3

* * *

Dmitri cautiously moved towards the door, attempting to neaten his belongings as he moved; he knew the two people that could knock on his door were either Annabeth, or the College inspection team, either of which would kill him if they saw his room like this. He gripped his door handle, took in a deep breath, and pulled the door open.

A woman stood in the corridor, her skin fair and hair a light blonde, a deep red dress draped down her body from her shoulders, with a polished cruciform sitting proudly around her neck. Her posture confident and assertive; she lifted her hand up to the door and opened it fully, pushing the door until it swung back fully on its hinges.

"Good afternoon. Are you," She stepped past you and looked around your apartment, a quiet giggle escaping her lips as she surveys the chaos wrought by the youths powers. "From the look of things, that question is moot. Bee problem? There's a bit of that going around."

"I represent an organisation headquarters in London, a very large organization with branches across the globe in every government; although we see ourselves as a silent partner. We pull strings, big strings: Prime Ministers, Presidents, Kings. Dark days are coming, the world is in turmoil, and we are recruiting: Soldiers, Agents, Adventurers, Crusaders. And we offer good terms: a fresh start, a network unlike any other, unlimited resources, a fantastic medical plan, and a way to harness your incredible powers."

"It may be a big transition, but look at it this way: this is a unique opportunity, you have been chosen, you have been granted power greater than most can imagine, so you can either be an outcast in a world that can never understand or accept what you've become; or you can join others like you, take a stand against a rising darkness and embark on a journey into the unknown the hidden places, into the secret world."

"The choice is, as they are so fond of saying, yours. But know this: your emerging powers will attract plenty of attention, and not everyone is as, accommodating, as we are; on your own you'll be easy prey, you might not last the week." The woman pulled out a red envelope and handed it to Dmitri.

"This will get you where you need to go, there are directions inside. Use it or don't use it, it's your prerogative. You won't see me again. I trust you'll make the right decision." The woman stepped past Dmitri again, moving to leave the apartment building. She paused and turned her head slightly to face the youth again. "By the way, our organisation is called the Templars. You may have heard of us; we've been around a while. Good day."

The woman saluted Dmitri casually before she walked down the corridor towards the elevator. The youth sighed and look at the litter resting in his hands. The envelope was a bright crimson with a white cross in a black square at its center; the colour and symbology reminding him of the man who saved him a week previously, "Could he be a Templar?" he thought to himself.

"Strange." Dmitri flipped the letter over and broke the wax seal. Inside was a set of instruction to Ealdwic, a suburb of London, a plane ticket to London and a train ticket to Ealdwic Station, and a small silver disk. The coin had two images on it: the first a cruciform, the second the head of a lion with the inscription "Strength. Honor. Unity." etched into the metal below.

Dmitri spent the next few hours hastily packing his bags, trying to fit what he could into one bag without compromising the essentials and hopefully packing as much as he could for a trip he knew nothing about.

The youth collected his belongings, prepared his apartment as best he could, and left to the airport. On his way out, Dmitri passed by Annabeth's room where he heard something he had not heard from her in many years: he heard her crying.

"Anna?" He muttered quietly after knocking on her door gently. He heard her flinch at the sudden noise, her shadow shifting slightly under the door; Dmitri guessed she was curled into a ball behind the door. "Are you okay?"

The door opened and Annabeth stepped out, her crimson hair a mess, her eyes wet and puffy, and her cheeks glistening with fresh tears. She was wearing her normal pajamas: a loose fitting pink shirt covered in hearts and baggy cotton pants. The fabric on both was loose and wrinkled as though she had worn them for a long time.

"Oh, Dmitri. Hi." She muttered, wiping some of the tears from her cheeks, even as fresh tears welled in her eyes. "I didn't expect you here. Sorry I haven't been in class; things have been hectic." She mumbled, her voice cracking slightly.

"What's wrong? It has to be something big." Dmitri dropped his suitcase and embraced his best-friend in a hug, her head buried in his shoulder. Fresh tears began to stream out of her eyes as she hugged him back tightly.

"I've been transferred, a prestigious academy in America. All expenses paid, and I'm going to miss you all, so much." She mumbled loudly into Dmitri's shoulder, her voice weakening slowly and steadily.

"We can still skype, you know. And who knows, maybe one day I can visit you, it sounds like the experience of a lifetime." He said awkwardly as he gently stroked her back to try to comfort her. All of a sudden Dmitri's watch began to chime, an alarm he set so he wouldn't miss his flight. "I'm so sorry Anna, but I have to run. I'll call you when I can, okay?" He tightened the hug slightly before breaking it, grabbing his suitcase and moving towards the elevator. As the doors closed on him, Dmitri looked into Annabeth's eyes, and his heart skipped a beat: This could be the last time he would ever see his best friend. That moment seemed like an eternity to both Dmitri and Annabeth, the long pause where both of them stood silent before the elevator doors finally barred vision between the two partners.

The remainder of the trip was uneventful: Dmitri managed to catch his flight to London, the exchange in Dubai went without a problem, and he landed in London Airport smoothly. Through the flight, Dmitri examined the contents of the letter with extreme detail; the train ticket was direct to Ealdwic, a short ride from central London, but didn't have any indication of time or price, just the origin and destination. The instructions were very straight forward: go to a building called Temple Hall and look for a man called Sonnac, whoever he was.


	6. London - Ealdwic

Thanks for reading yet another chapter of my story guys :) Now this one is a little shorter than the other ones, BUT thats only cause the next one will be really detailed and hopefully really cool ^_^ Dont forget to R&R everyone, DFTBA

* * *

After touching down in London, Dmitri immediately went looking for a bathroom, looking to freshen up a bit before he met with his benefactors. He approached the mirror and looked around, checking to see if he was alone.

The youth turned the tap on, letting lukewarm water flow into the sink before him. He gently allowed water to pool in his cupped hands and washed his face when he felt he had gathered enough water. He looked into his reflection, water dripping down his face and onto the black cotton tee shirt he wore.

As he looked back into his own eyes, he noticed something that should not be there: shame. "I don't get it. I've been accepted by the Templars, I've been chosen. How can I feel this terrible!" He said, his voice full of conflicting emotions and his volume steadily rising. He clenched his wet hands, small streaks of blue flame beginning to manifest on the backs of his hands.

A moment of clarity cleaved through his erratic emotional state: a beautiful woman with long red hair and bright blue eyes. His partner in crime. His best friend. A small tear ran down Dmitri's cheek. He muttered "I'm sorry, Annabeth." He sighed, then reached for a paper towel to wipe his face dry.

Soon after, suitcase in hand, Dmitri caught a bus into central London, trying to find a train to Ealdwic. The transport officer at the station told him that Ealdwic was under lockdown. No trains were running to the station.

Dmitri figured that the walk was worth it, if anything to clear his mind. He picked up a map that included Ealdwic and began to walk.

Dmitri was, as you may expect, a solitary person: more at home walking on his own in the middle of the night, than he was in a room full of acquaintances. As such, he was accustom to feeling along, and took great joy in his solace; today; however, was different.

The same raging emotions that plagued him at the airport continued to plague him as he traversed his way through the packed streets of London. Memories of his friends back home flowed into his mind, the nostalgia piercing his heart with a spike of remorse and regret. Occasionally he thought he heard whispers speaking to him, indiscernible whispers that made the hair on the back of his head stand on end.

Dmitri got snapped out of his daze by a police officer barring his path, a road block into Ealdwic. "I'm sorry, Sir, but you can't come any farther."

"Oh, um," Dmitri stumbled, still a little dazed from the walk, "I've got this if it helps." He pulled the letter out of his jacket pocket and passed it to the closest of the two officers barring his path.

"I don't know what that's supposed to be, but its not-" the officer says, autonomously.

"Alright lads, D.I. Shelley, they're with me." A woman says from within the blockade, her strong Irish accent unmistakable but clear. She ushered the youth past the blockade and into Ealdwic. "Do us both a favour and don't go flashing that letter around out here. The boys on the cordon haven't been briefed. As far as they're concerned, this is all just 'heightened awareness' after the terrorist attack in Tokyo."

Shelley took out a cigarette from her black suit jacket pocket and lit it up. Dmitri inhaled to ask her a question, but was stopped by the obvious look in her eyes.

"I don't deal with the bureaucracy, I deal with the truth: about the secret London, about the Templars. I'd say "I hope you know what you're getting yourself into." But you have no idea; even I only get as involved as I have to, for the sake of us little people."

She took in a large breath of smoke before lowering the butt; her voice lowered slightly as her face became sombre and concerned. "You've seen it on the news? The Tokyo Incident? That's what happens when your new crowd lets things get out of hand. Not here, not on my watch. That's the deal, that's always been the deal."

The Detective Inspector drops the butt and stamps it out before taking a step back. "You'll be safe inside Ealdwic, there are some prophets prophesying in the road, by the tube station if you're interested. They'll fill you in on the kind of crazy you've got ahead of you. Best be prepared."

She smiled before turning and exiting the scene. She turned briefly and said "My sincerest condolences." before leaving Dmitri's vision fully.

"This world is getting weirder and weirder." Dmitri muttered to himself, the drive of curiosity and understanding overwhelming his caution and fear of the unknown.

Dmitri began to walk down the main street, taking in the layout of Ealdwic: the buildings were rather standard of a London suburb, bland and standardized, as were the people. He walked past the Tube station and saw a small crowd gather behind it, must be the prophets D.I. Shelley spoke of. "Ill look at that later." He muttered quietly. The youth followed the main street past some residences and approached another blockade, manned by four men; two of these men were police officers, the same uniform as those who stopped him on the outskirts of Ealdwic, but the other two had deep crimson uniforms with a cross insignia on their shoulders. The uniforms reminded him of the man who saved his life earlier that week.

Dmitri passed by the four guards, meeting no resistance as he passed the threshold.


	7. London - The Handler

Good Afternoon my readers! Heres the updates version :) My main beta is back from interstate and as such, can start reading my stuff again.

Hope you like it :) Dont forget to review, and DFTBA!

* * *

The youth paused just passed the threshold of the blockade, his breathing paused and his heart skipped a beat. He stood awestruck at the building before him - a huge complex, not dissimilar to that of the White House in Washington DC, but closer to the ancient world.

Both the hall and its surrounding buildings were made of the same stone, a light grey granite that looked as though it could withstand a great deal of punishment before succumbing to an attack. The courtyard before the hall held a small asphalt road that ran around a large water fountain in the heart of the courtyard; great stone pillars supporting causeways flanked either side of the road, linked to the archway that stood as the threshold between the New London and the Old London. A grand amount of crimson, black, and white flags flew around the parapets of the courtyard, marking the land as the Templar's.

Whilst the Temple Courtyard was impressive, the Temple Hall itself took Dmitri's breath away: the granite gleaming, its parapets effective but striking, its two square towers above the main entrance glowing from its windowed walls, a circular power protruding from the centre of the hall reaching towards the across its stone face, windows broke the grey tones with a bright orange glow. The glow created a sense of righteousness and divinity in the Temple.

Dmitri began to walk towards the Temple, his legs moved on their own accord as the youth examined the architecture and grandeur of the Temple Hall and its surrounding buildings. Halfway across the courtyard, Dmitri was snapped of his trance as he ran headlong into one of the steel bollards protecting the outskirts of the fountain.

Dmitri skirted around it, taking the most direct route to the entrance to Temple Hall. He looked down into the fountain to see a mosaic of the Templar cross on its base, with a geyser of water erupting from its center. The youth passed the fountain and headed towards the large opening. Flanking either side of the open double door was a Templar guard, twin pistols by their hips and some form of talisman on their belt. Dmitri climbed up the steps and passed another double door, flanked by two more guards, but these were armed with rifles and Hammers rather than pistols. As Dmitri stepped out into the hall, he stood once again awestruck, taking in the magnificence of the interior.

Dmitri passed two rooms as he entered the primary hall; the room on his right had its door open, whereas the other was closed. The youth continued into the centre of the room, its polished marble walls and pillars shone against the illumination from both the torches dotting the walls and the windows surrounding the dome in the centre of the roof. As Dmitri looked down he could see a large tiled pattern in the center of the room: a large cross with each of its points directed to the four alcoves in each corner of the antechamber.

A hand lightly tapped Dmitri's right shoulder; the youth flinched and jumped back, turning as he did. Before him stood a young woman with tanned skin, short brown hair, and emerald eyes; she wore a Templar uniform as did the other occupants of the room.

"Sorry to snap you out of your day dream, it's a lot to take in. My name is Beatrice, but you can call me Tris. Welcome to the Templars." She offered her hand to Dmitri. The youth accepted and shook her hand before saying, "How did you know I was new?"

"We've all been there. Even Dame Julia, our Grand Matriarch." She gestured towards an elderly woman, her silver hair neatly tied in a bun, her crimson robes adorned with black and white detailing, and her right arm clad in polished steel. Her face held a slight smirk, concealed under a scowl. "You'll want to see Mr. Sonnac. His office is this way." Beatrice said calmly, directing Dmitri to the open room he passed on his way in. "Good Luck."

"Thank you, Tris." Dmitri said weakly, still trying to process everything; Inside the office was relatively standard for an office: two desks, a chair, and assorted works of art to make the office more comfortable: two paintings hang on the wall, one of Joan of Arc, the other of the Archangel Michael. On the floor was a large rug ornate with the Templar cross sitting in the middle of the room.

Inhabiting the room were two people; the first was D.I. Shelley, leaning against the wall immediately to Dmitri's right as he entered. The second was a dark skinned man in a deep crimson suit; he sat at the desk in the center of the back half of the room.

"Come in, come in. I'm very pleased you can follow directions on the back of a card."The dark skinned man said before standing up from the chair; "of course, with an establishment like this, we're practically in the yellow pages under 'crusaders'. Richard Sonnac." He offered his hand to Dmitri, shook his hand firmly, then sat back down.

"So, you heeded our call to arms. You have questions, I can furnish you with answers, some answers. To begin with, you haven't stayed into some atrocious Dan Brown airport paperback. We are no longer the "Knights Templar", that particular appellation went out in the 1300's, along with pageboy haircuts and burning at the stake. No, we run a 21st century- well, let's say a "forward facing" organisation, but one with its strengths in ancient bonds of tradition: In loyalty, in blood; and, to be perfectly frank, in a sizable private army."

Sonnac took out a file labelled "Tokyo" and opened it; he passed some images to Dmitri to view. The images were those of a subway or underground railway with black slime covering the floor and walls,with humanoid creatures with deep red glowing eyes, and hulking beasts of enormous size that vaguely resemble the humanoid form. Alongside these creatures were multiple uniformed people with different colors: the first being a white haired woman in a Templar Uniform, the second being a black haired Asian woman, the third being a dark haired man with a leather trench coat, the fourth being an elderly tanned man with a leather jacket, and the fifth being a tanned woman with fuzzy brown hair. The first profile was labelled "Templar." The second was labelled "Dragon." The third and fifth was labelled "Illuminati." And the fourth was labelled "Unknown."

"Our firm guidance is needed to save the world from itself. We have kept the matters of squabbling secret societies and lithesome dimensions discreet. Until the shadows began to keep back across the globe; until these darkest days came upon us. Now the evidence is on television, for pity's sake. We are at war; might will make right, and it will fall upon us to judge the correct applications of might. It falls upon you, as a soldier of the Templars. Show me you have the will, and we can teach you the way: your remarkable powers can be honed and controlled, at least to less disastrous effect on property values. There is a private training area which we have reinforced for just that purpose. Come back and see me after." Sonnac gestured to the right of the door Dmitri entered from, then began to collect the images that he gave Dmitri previously in the conversation.

Dmitri thanked Sonnac as he left and nodded to Shelley. As he emerged from his office, he noticed that Beatrice was standing guard just across the hall. He walked up to her and said "Sorry for being a bit out of it. The name's Dmitri." He offered his hand to the other Templar.

"A pleasure, as I said, it is a lot to take all this in. Have fun in the Crucible, Brigadier Lethe isn't as harsh as he seems." She smiled friendlily, still standing at attention.

"Fun. Have a good day." Dmitri waves and walks towards the indicated doorway. He passed two Templar guards as he pushed the double door open and entered the crucible.


	8. London - The Crucible

Hello All! KnightwithaPassion Here! Next chapter, as promised.  
Sorry its taking so long to get to the actual story :P should be 2 more chapters!  
Please read and review! DFTBA!

* * *

The inside of the Crucible was just as glorious as the temple that surrounded it: before Dmitri stood what looked like a bar with couches, crimson carpets, and assorted works of art on the walls behind him and to his flanks. Behind the bar area was a large wall with three long corridors branching down into it, each inhabited by chained monsters. Dmitri crossed the bar and went down the stairs onto a tiles floor towards the lower level of the Crucible.

"Christ Almighty, we have our work cut out for us!" A man shouted from the center of the main hall, previously obscured by the bar from the entrance. His garb was very militaristic: camo with assorted knives and pouches, a close cut military haircut and an eyepatch over his left eye. "The Crucible is my house, and in my house my word is law. Forget your mother's teat, from now on this is your home. This is where you learn how to stay alive. You've come here an empty slate; you have potential, that's why you were recruited, but that potential needs strict guidance. You're a loaded weapon, and if you don't learn to control yourself and channel your powers, you'll end up hurting yourself, or others." The brigadier leaned into Dmitri, the 6 foot 5 inch tall man towering over the 5 foot 11 inch tall youth. He stared down Dmitri, his face a few inches from the youths.

The Brigadier walked away from Dmitri and approached one of three weapons caches. Each cache was placed in front of each of the three halls: the cache to his left had a sword, a hammer, and a pair of claws, set before a hall with beasts chained cross all 3 walls; the cache before him had an assault rifle, a pair of pistols, and a shotgun, set before a hall with beasts against the far wall, its floor periodically marking the distance from that wall; the final cache to his right held a talisman, a mask, and a book, set before a hall with beasts chained to the roof in a set of rings.

"You have the ability to manifest anima, your life force, in the physical world. To enhance your strength, your physical attributes. To do magic: Martial magic. None of that faerie stuff. Whatever trinket you hold in your hand is merely a way to direct your powers." The Brigadier picked up the Assault Rifle and aimed it at one of the beasts down the firing range. "We don't do magic wands here. Through your weapon, you channel and wield your magic." He fired the rifle, impacting a creature on the far wall. The beast cried out in pain as its head jerked back, its upper body engulfed in flames. The Brigadier replaced the rifle in the cache before he turned back to Dmitri.

"Never mind why this power has been awakened in you. You're not the only one, and you're not the Chosen One, you're part of an army, our army, and from now on you'll do what you're told. It's the way of the Templars."

The Brigadier moved behind Dmitri, causing the youth to turn to face his instructor. He moved to the area just below the bar and stood with his hands behind his back, legs apart and unmoving. "Consider this your playground. It's not like being out on the front lines, but it's close enough. We have a choice of weapons for you to practice with. Try as many as you wish. You'll want to make sure you're comfortable with your weapon. It'll be the only thing between you and a trip to the graveyard.

Those things are called Rakshasa, they're basic hellhounds. We keep them chained. They used to make such a mess of the new recruits. Use them for target practice. Don't worry, they don't feel a thing, and they're unworthy of mercy. Spend your time in the Crucible well. There's no point rushing things. Out there, the demons aren't chained up, and you don't have me around to save your sorry arse. Go on, get started! I'll offer some guidance along the way."

Dmitri saluted the Brigadier before turning to face the weapon crates. The new recruit approached the firearm cache, moving towards the shotgun resting on the rightmost crate of the cache.

Dmitri picked up the shotgun and held it in both hands. The shotgun felt heavy in his hands, much heavier than the skeet-shooting shotguns he used to use. Dmitri pulled the pump action back and looked down the loading mechanism. The barrel was empty.

"No rounds, Sir?" The youth said, slightly confused as he scanned the area around him for shotgun shells.

"We have no real use for Ammunition here. Here we convert our Anima into the bullets we fire from our weapons. Saves the need to reload constantly or carry ridiculous amounts of Ammunition in for a fire fight."

"Thank you, Sir." Dmitri closed the barrel and approached a Rakshasa on the firing range, approaching the 15 meter mark. He took a deep breath and aimed at the beast, waiting a moment before pulling the trigger. The firearm went off, propelling energy at the Rakshasa before him. The recoil hit Dmitri hard; it caused a sharp spike of pain to radiate from his arm as the solid stock of the tactical shotgun hit his lower bicep.

Dmitri muttered a curse under his breath, feeling slightly drained from the shot. He returned to the cache and replaced the shotgun to its crate; the weapon sitting neatly in the foam cut-out inside the military grade plastic crate.

Dmitri moved to his left and picked up the rifle, the weapon completely alien in his hands. He replaced it in the cache and moved to the next crate.

In the next crate was a pair of pistols, their sleep polished metal shining in the dim torch light. Dmitri picked them up and felt their weight. The weapon felt natural in his left hand, whereas his right was more awkward, accustomed to a blade, not a firearm.

Dmitri strode down the firing range, shooting a barrage of Anima rounds at a Rakshasa, firing more frequently with his left hand. The youth paused 5 meters from the Rakshasa before returning to the cache. As he walked towards the cache, he felt more drained than with the shotgun.

Dmitri approached the Brigadier with a pistol in each hand, the weapons unfamiliar in his grip as the weight carried his right hand down. "I think this will do, Sir. How many weapons may I take?"

"Two weapons. Too many at any one time is inefficient and sloppy for a new recruit. Go decide on your other weapon and return to me when you're done." The Brigadier said, his stance solid and unmoving as it was when he entered it.

"With all due respect, Sir, I've already decided on my second weapon." Dmitri replaced the pistols in their crate before he moved to the melee weapon cache. He picked up the blade, a Katana, and continued on towards one of the Rakshasa. Dmitri attacked the beast three times: the first strike into its shoulder, rebounding into a strike against its arm, then flicking into an overhead strike into the beast's torso, driving it a few inches into its chest. The weight was unfamiliar in Dmitri's hand, but the balance was adequate and therefore he was able to carry the momentum of each strike into the next.

Dmitri smiled at the weapon before dislodging it from the Rakshasa, the beast groaning in pain as he did. He turned back to the Brigadier and walked up to the weapons cache. He smiled again as he picked up a sheath and attached it to his belt, the clips smoothly hooking onto his garb. The youth then walked up to the firearm cache and picked up two pistol holsters, the molded black leather designed to hold the pistols firmly in their place; the two holsters clipped easily onto his belt, much like his scabbard did, and the red leather strap wrapping firmly around his thigh, holding it in place. He holstered two pistols and approached the Brigadier, standing to attention in front of his instructor.

"Very good, Soldier. Report to Sonnac for your assignment." The Brigadier nodded to Dmitri before the youth left. Dmitri saluted his instructor before he left the crucible, his left hand resting on the blade on his hip. As soon as he left the Crucible he turned left and approached Sonnac's open office door.


	9. London - The Assignment

One more to go until Solomon Island guys, don't worry :P 9k words later and we're nearly there!  
Dont forget to review, and DFTBA!

* * *

Dmitri entered Sonnac's office, the dark skinned handler at his desk, his attention directed at numerous reports. Sonnac looked up at Dmitri and put the files down before gesturing Dmitri to set down at the chair in the center of the room.

As Dmitri sat down before his handler, the youth got a better look at one of the files Sonnac was reading as he entered; of the three files only one was open, and it contained Dmitri's photo.

"The time has come to discuss your upcoming excursion to the colonies. I'm afraid its business, not pleasure." Sonnac pulled out another crimson folder and passed it to the youth. Dmitri released the iron grip on his blade as he accepted the folder and opened it. Inside the folder contained photos, maps, incident reports, personnel files, and case files relating to an island off the coast of Maine. "Recently, a small island community on the New England coast dropped off the map. You can disregard the tiresome government cover-ups; there are darker forces at play."

Sonnac cleared his desk slightly, stacking the files he was reading before into a neat pile on the edge of his desk, then joined his hands and entwined his fingers. He lent forward into his elbows, face stern and deep in thought. "Solomon Island is a rock with infamy. In the past, it was trafficked by the Illuminati, before they joined the rush for New York. You should be aware that we have, shall we say, history with the Illuminati. Acrimonious history. Of course, under the flag of truce we have spat and made up, and now we are the closest of enemies. All smiles above the table and drawn knives beneath it. Illuminati are reckless, and cannot be relied upon to clean up their own messes.

We must find the root of whatever doom has come to Solomon Island. But let me stress that this is not a rescue operation. Should there be survivors, you cannot announce that you've been chosen to deliver anyone from evil. Joan of Arc did, and look where that got her. Our goal is the salvation of all mankind not a case-by-case basis. I understand that may stick in your throat; but, well, haloes are fading all over town, now that there is so much more at stake.

Leave as soon as you can, your travel arrangements have already been make at the Ealdwic underground. I'll be in touch."

"Thank you, Mr Sonnac. I won't let you down." Dmitri said as he rose from the chair, his left hand naturally gravitating to the hilt of his blade, the folder resting beneath his right arm.  
The youth nodded to his handler before he turned and left the office. "No, you won't." Sonnac muttered loudly as he began to pull out more crimson folders.

Dmitri stroke out of Sonnac's office and entered the main courtyard if Temple Hall. He waved at Beatrice before he left the headquarters of the Templars. As he left he could feel the grip tighten around his sword; his heart rate rose and he could feel his gait begin to stiffen, a sign Dmitri knew to be a sign of his nerves beginning to surface.

As Dmitri passed the fountain and began to head to the station, memories began to run thought his mind: memories of his LARP battles, single-handedly being able to fight and defeat the leaders of some of the most powerful warbands, memories of his fencing carrier in University, reaching the interstate championships in Canberra, and memories of his Kendo and Iaijutsu training sessions, being one of the most skilled combatants his Sensei had seen in his age group in years.

And, for once in his fighting life, Dmitri was scared. For the past 10 years the youth had been in combat schools in one for or another, but as Dmitri strode towards the Ealdwic train station, every sound but that of his heartbeat and the sound of his boots hitting the damp cobblestones of the suburb main street seemed to fade from his mind, Caught up in his memory, Dmitri absentmindedly entered the station. The main area bustling with stalls and merchants trying to sell their wares.

On the wall beside the main underground entrance was one word written in crimson with an arrow pointing underground beside it: "Agartha."

Dmitri passed the vendors and the writing, he descended into the underground. He passed two closed off passages to his right, the darkness beyond the iron gates prohibiting vision past the threshold. The air in the stone tiled subway, presumably decades old, was damp and stale, but also held the scent of flowers, and the buzz of small inscectoid wings.

Below him, one of the lowest levels of the station, grew small patches of grass and flowers, illuminated by a dull yellow glow. As the youth got closer to the glow, he could see the grass, flowers, and roots were emerging from a yellow disk, about a meter from a half in diameter, with an image inside it: The image contained a tree trunk with dozens of branches emerging from all directions, the youth reached for the disk with his left hand.

Dmitri's trance was broken as a voice called his name, his fingertips moments from the horizon of the portal. "Dmitri!" the voice called. The youth pivoted and looked up the stairway, where he saw Beatrice standing by the first locked gate two levels above him. She quickly descended the stairs, a package wedged under her right arm. "Nearly missed you."

"Hey Tris. Did I miss something?" Dmitri muttered, his tongue uncooperative as Beatrice stood in the gently yellow glow of the gateway.

"Sonnac and Chance wanted me to give you this." She said as she passed the package she held to the youth. "Inside is your uniform and your comms unit. Upstairs to your left is a suitable change room, or you can wait until you're in Kingsmouth if you want, it's your prerogative." Her smile was gently as she spoke, her body more comfortable and relaxed than it was on duty. "Anyway, Sonnac wants me back ASAP. Good luck." She offered her hand to her new partner.

Dmitri blinked and leapt forward; he threw his arms around her and embraced her for a few moments before he stepped back. "Thank you, Tris." He neatened himself up slightly and gathered both the package and the file under his right arm.

The woman laughed quietly under her breath before she exited the underground, waving back as she did.

Dmitri grinned as he watched her leave, his cheeks as red as her armor in his endorphin high. After a moment, the youth snapped his attention from Beatrice and turned to face the portal.

He tentatively extended his hand and touched the horizon of the Entrance to Agartha.


	10. London - Agartha

Good Morning Beekeepers! No idea if that name is going to stick but anyway.

Finally finished the intro section of the journey, off to Kingsmouth!  
DFTBA, hope you guys R&R, and enjoy!

* * *

Dmitri was pushed through the portal, stumbling to a halt on the wooden surface of the Agartha conduit. He stood uneasily, slightly dazed from the instantaneous travel.

The youth looked around the new landscape. The surface Dmitri stood on seemed to be a giant tree branch, supported by an equally giant tree trunk behind him; Dmitri estimated the branch was about 10 meters in width, half that in thickness as its flat face covered the surface he stood on. As he looked into the distance, the Templar could see more gargantuan trees, their roots and heights fading into a gentle yellow fog.

Before him stood a man, about 35 to 40 years old, dressed in a conductor uniform. "Hello? Yes? Now this is the Hollow Earth: Agartha. I hope you're not here for the local service, its running somewhat tardy. By my watch, its, one hundred years overdue at quarter past the hour!" The stationmaster exclaimed, as a small pocket watch flew into his hands to inform him of the time.

"Judging from the cut of you, you're more of a world traveller; well, you've come to the right place. This underground realm, like the great British rail system is the very model of efficiency. Agartha's thoroughfares sprout from the tree of life, and connect back to the surface." He said as he gestures to the roots of the tree, then the sky. "Distance and time bend in here. Why, you can cross the globe in a brisk walk!"

The stationmaster noticed the wary look on Dmitri's face before adding "Of course it's perfectly safe. No one's entirely sure how it works; quite bedeviled the science boffins, but I'm sure they have their top men on it. Top men indeed."

He turned to face a large metallic statue, easily twice Dmitri's height, its copper shell engraved with dozens of glyphs and inscriptions across its ancient and indomitable frame. The stationmaster beckons the statue forward and it slowly began to lumber forward toward the pair. The youth took a step back, the ever constant grip on his sword tightening. "You'll need one of those, mind your fingers." The metal custodian raised his arm above Dmitri and opened its hand, dropping a small orb. The youth's hand shot up from his sword grip and caught the small orb.

"Thank you." The stationmaster said to the custodian as the youth stared at the small orb in his left hand, allowing the custodian to resume its original position. The orb itself was no more than three inches across, with an outer dome and an inner sphere of about one inch across. The inner sphere glowed a gentle yellow light, emitting a small amount of head to the glyph covered outer dome, although no clear sign of connection between the inner sphere and outer dome seemed to exist.

"Fascinating devices; fortunately there's still enough to hand out like sweets. Consider it your anchor to the Hollow Earth. It can return you here in a flash, proverbially and quite literally." The stationmaster straightened his hat and turned to face the pathway behind him, the tree branch that ran away from the London exit. "Well then, onwards to the New England coast, what? Just step through the threshold and the Hollow Earth will take you where you need to go, quite fascinating if I do say so myself."

Dmitri nodded farewell to the stationmaster before moving past him, heading towards the area the stationmaster had gestured to, where a large flat platform by the trunk of the Agartha tree narrowed into a walkway. Dmitri moved to the point just before the branch narrowed into the walkway. As he did, a slight shimmer appeared in the air before him, akin to that of water falling onto a pond a drop at a time, forming a disk that covered the walkway with its center approximately at Dmitri's head height.

In the corner of Dmitri's mind, a voice spoke to him: Imperceptible, the voice told him to reach out to the disk, a mere arms-reach away from the youth. Without thinking, he stretched his hand out to the event horizon, but at the last moment hesitated and withdrew his hand.

Then, trusting his instincts and taking a deep breath, he reached out again to make contact with the shimmering tunnel. As his fingers gently touched it, he was yanked over the threshold of the portal, racing away from the Stationmaster and the London exit. As he was pulled through, he could see the landscape of Agartha rushing past on either side of him. What he couldn't see was anything in front of him, his vision obscured by a dark void.

As suddenly as he was pulled through the passageway, Dmitri was thrown out of it, stumbling to a halt on another platform in the middle of an Agartha branch.

To his left stood a large arch reaching across the length of the platform, approximately 10 meter across at its widest point.

As the youth looked around the platform, his vision started to return. At ease now that he could see, Dmitri tried to find the cause of his travelling discomfort, realizing soon that he hadn't been able to see his nose whilst in the passage, nor could he remember seeing the rest of his body.

Dmitri shrugged the thought aside as he turned to his left to face the arch, which was made of the same material of the Agartha trees. The void beneath the arch filled with the image of a police station, its dark walls covered in brown and red and ruined courtyard littered with cars and burning braziers. The surface of the image seemed to ebb and distort before him, much like the event horizon of the passage at the London exit. The youth reasoned the portal to his left would return him to London, and there would probably be a portal to his right.

The Templar took a step towards the arch, passing through the portal with closed eyes and empty lungs. He was pulled through space, towards Solomon Island and his assignment.


	11. Kingsmouth - The Beginning

Hello there Beekeepers!  
So, we're finally in Kingsmouth, yay! With a bit of a Demo with combat and the introduction of some key characters, I couldn't think of a better way to start the main arc!  
DFTBA, Hope you guys like it, and dont forget to review ^_^

* * *

The youth emerged from the other side of the portal at a fast walk, his soft runners making little noise on the wooden planks that greeted him. In the unknown environment, Dmitri's hand dropped to his pistol as he glanced around, searching for danger and familiarising himself with his surroundings. He was standing on the deck of what seemed to be an ancient ship beached in a scraggly forest.

Dmitri explored the Viking Longboat he emerged from Agartha onto: the ship itself seemed to be centuries old, dating back to the 10th century at least, but its position in the cliff face and the flora growing out from the Agartha entrance seemed to indicate a more recent history.

The youth brushed the thought aside; he knew that he needed to get to a safe position to start his mission, and that he could always return to the mysterious longboat.

Dmitri moved to the port side of the longboat, where a large hole in the railing allowed for easy access to the wooded ground half a meter below him. As he landed, he heard something from behind him, footsteps on the decking on the ship. Dmitri quietly moved to the side, hiding in the shadows beneath the crippled longboat and waited to see who followed him.

Mere moments after Dmitri moved into the cover below the longboat, a figure in green garb jumped from the bow of the ship and started to run towards the opening on the small natural alcove that housed the Agartha portal. The man, no older than Dmitri was, wore a green and red jacket with green and red pants, both of which were embellished with gold trim that resembled an Asian dragon. At his wrists were a pair of vambraces, and around his neck was a white scarf, obscuring his lower face, leaving only a short head of wispy brown hair visible from behind. What caught Dmitri's attention more was the tactical shotgun that sat comfortably over the strangers shoulder, letting the Templar know to watch out for this man, whoever he was.

The Templar knelt, completely still, for about 5 minutes to ensure that the stranger had left the area and wouldn't return. As Dmitri waited, his eyes combed the area around him, ensuring that he wouldn't be surprised, whilst his mind processed the situation: there was something familiar about the stranger, the short wispy brown hair and general body shape, tall and skinny but defined and a show of martial discipline in the way he moved, triggering a memory in the deepest recesses of his mind, but unable to connect a name to a face.

Satisfied that the danger had passed, Dmitri slowly rose from his kneeling position, tucking the package under his left arm while he readied his blade in his right. After looking around again to determine he was alone, he sheathed his sword and left the alcove.

A few metres from the shadow of the longboat stood a campsite, inhabited by a single person: an older man with a long raw hide leather coat, cowboy hat, a short black beard and a hunting rifle by his feet. Suspended over the small campfire hung a pot, while behind the man stood a small red dome tent, suitable for a single person.

The man began to poke the fire with a stick as Dmitri approached him from the alcove. Glancing up, he say the confused look Dmitri wore before saying, "Aww, don't worry kid, you haven't gone back in time. I just happen to be the last of the cowboys. Got your southern welcome right here: crispy beans, Texas style; good to face evil on a full stomach." He chuckled before continuing. "Name's Boone, I'm a trouble-shooter, but you and I need to have a pow-wow before you go shooting for trouble. Illuminati may have legacy on Solomon Island, but you folks gave that up for the high life, and the low road. Sure you can be divided in purpose, but, we've got to stand united against darkness." Boone spoke with a thick Texan accent, the accent distorting certain words so that they can only be understood if given their full attention.

Boone put the stick aside and slowly rose to his feet, making sure to take it slowly as to not strain any of his muscles with sudden movement. "This ain't my first rodeo, I know we're going to need all the unity we can get. Don't mean to say you stepped into hell, but when the wind blows west, you can just about smell the brimstone. All we know is death and fog came from the sea, or someone brought it back with them; if I was a gambling man, I'd put money on that someone still being around."

"A bunch of survivors hold up in Kingsmouth Town, follow that main road and the sound of gunfire and you'll come to the Sheriff's office." Boone looked towards the main street he indicated, looking both ways before moving closer to Dmitri, his voice a loud whisper. "Kid, whatever your reasons for being here, find out what those people died for, and you bring a reckoning."

"I will." The youth said, nodding before he moved towards the township. Dmitri paused a few paces from Boone's camp before turning around. "Hey Boone, can I borrow your tent for a moment? This is the first safe place I've found and I don't want to carry my uniform with me in a hostile environment." He gestured to the package he held under his arm when he referred to his uniform. Boone nodded towards his tent before, added "Go ahead; just don't touch any of my gear." He then resumed his position by the campfire, agitating the coals with a stick.

Dmitri nodded gratefully and promptly entered the small tent. The tent had little inside it, but the small sleeping equipment present was haphazardly thrown around the interior. Dmitri ignored the items and sat cross-legged, the parcel on his lap as he moved to open it. Inside the package was three distinct layers of items: The first was a wireless earpiece and watch set, sitting right on top of the package, the second was a uniform similar to that of the Templars at temple hall, the crimson material a resilient glossy leather that had steel reinforcement in certain areas made into an over jacket and pants, along with a white full face mask, black boots, and a belt. The last item was a backpack, small and black with clips that hooked onto a harness that seemed to be designed to rest under the over jacket. The backpack had two access points on the top and bottom. Dmitri told himself he'd look at it later before donning his uniform, pack, earpiece, and watch.

After he placed the folder he carried into his new pack, Dmitri emerged from the tent and bade Boone farewell before he headed out towards Kingsmouth town.

The highway to Kingsmouth was littered with abandoned cars and small petrol fires, obvious signs of the gravity of the situation at Kingsmouth.

The first sign that something was wrong was when the hair on the back of Dmitri's neck stood erect; he could sense a presence nearby, something was watching him, something malicious. Soon after the Templar realized something was wrong, he felt a vibration trigger around his left wrist: his watch vibrated three times, the square screen, about an inch across, showed a red warning signal across the screen. Dmitri turned his wrist over to reveal a second readout, projected on his wrist; the readout reminded Dmitri of old Submarine movies with their radar systems. On the screen showed a central dot, presumably Dmitri, with two red dots on the lower half of the screen.

It was then that Dmitri heard the moan.

The youth turned slowly, hands moving to his weapons. As he came to face the creatures, they took off running towards him. Their faces were distorted and flesh was absent across much of their body, skin hanging off in parts where they were bitten, their blood long since stagnated.

Dmitri flinched and took a half step back, his hands dropping instinctively to his blade as the zombies rapidly crossed the gap that separated them from the Templar.

As his mind raced and adrenaline surged through his body, Dmitri didn't think about what he would do next. The youth stepped towards the first zombie and drew his katana, using the same motion to slice the razor sharp blade clean through the zombie's abdomen and out the other side. The next zombie was upon him moments later, slashing at the youth with its sharp fingernails. In response Dmitri spun on his heel, using the momentum of the full turn to slice the second zombie from shoulder to hip in a two-handed diagonal slash.

"What a waste." He muttered as he pushed the repulsion past his consciousness to deal with at a later date. He had started to move down the road when he heard another moan behind him. The youth turned to see one of the zombies, the one he severed at the waist, crawling slowly towards him with hunger in its eyes. Dmitri approached the corpse and stabbed down through its skull, leaving the undead beast lifeless.

Dmitri turned and continued down the highway towards Kingsmouth. He could see four vehicles past the first he just passed, two cars, a four wheel drive, and a police car. As Dmitri approached the four wheel drive, he could see the corpse of a small child wedged inside the door of the passenger side, the white paint of the door covered in red as a spray of blood left its mark from the child's demise.

Dmitri's watch vibrated again and he glanced back to his wrist: the projection showed three objects behind him, causing the youth to turn. As soon as he did a zombie was upon him, slamming Dmitri back into the car with its momentum. He smashed the walker's head into the car's back window and stunned it before kicking the zombie back into the other two. Two of the zombies, one a girl no more than 18 in a blood stained dress, the other an older man in a suit, ran again at Dmitri. He knew that he had little room to use the full power of his blade, so Dmitri used smaller, less powerful strikes to beat the zombies back and give him more room.

Dmitri cut at both undead before him, hitting the first in the shoulder with the edge of his blade, and the other in the middle of its chest with his pommel. As he gathered himself for another attack, the first zombie, the one who charged him, leapt out from between the other two and ran at him; Dmitri raised his blade and ran the zombie through, letting it impale itself on his weapon. He pushed the zombie back and retrieved his blade, pulling it out to his right to deliver more damage to the zombie.

The youth stood, legs braced and knees bent, with his sword low to his right, ready for another attack. From the tips of the fingers on his right hand, he could feel a slight tingle, almost like static energy concentrating on his hand and into his blade, similar to the feeling he felt in his bedroom no more than a week before.

"Ha!" Dmitri shouted as he slashed with his katana across all three zombies, bringing it from right to left in a diagonal slash. As he did, he could feel energy erupting from his blade, a weak blue flame trailing in the wake of his attack; the first zombie hit suffered the most damage from the attack; it's waist was severed as its flesh smouldered from the deep gash to its abdomen, the second fell with a large cut across its chest and the third fell silent, its head cut clean in half with the top half flung across the road.

The youth flinched back, panting, and look at his blade; small tendrils of flame clung weakly to the surface of the blade before they vanished from sight. He took in a deep breath before he finished off the other two undead creatures, stabbing down with the tip if his blade with enough force to penetrate, but not enough to risk hitting the asphalt below.

He swiftly recomposed himself before he continued down the road, mindful of every noise and movement in the thinning tree line by the road. Dmitri constantly checked his watch for any signs of danger, but his instinct told him to move without having to rely on the radar system, thinking he'd walk into a car without seeing it if he had his eyes glued to his wrist.

Dmitri passed the final civilian car and approached the police car, its front windscreen shattered and blood spray obscuring the police markings on its sides. As he got within a meter of the car, he could see numerous ammo box scattered across the passenger side of the car, with more blood drenching the leather from a hand reaching over from the back seat, completely lifeless.

The youth moved to the passenger door and put his hand on the sticky handle, the deep red of the spray partially dry to touch. As he went to pull the handle towards him, a blood curdling roar echoed through the trees behind him, on the left hand side of the road; Dmitri turned suddenly, his hands naturally falling to his katana, ready for a fight.

Off in the woods, a dull whistle could be heard as something fell, followed by a loud thud of a tree hitting the ground. Dmitri sighed and drew both of his pistols as he thought that it would be a bad idea to get close to whatever made that roar. Moving silently, the Templar moved off the road and into the forest, muscles tensed and movement restricted. Sliding from one shadow to another, he kept both of his pistols down but ready to fire at a moment's notice.

About ten meters from the track, Dmitri saw a lone figure in the thin tree line as the trees thinned this close to the cliffs. The figure stood in the middle of half a dozen corpses, unmoving with huge chunks of flesh flayed from their forms. The figure itself has a hulking monstrosity, its back a bloated mass of muscle and scar tissue with strips of cloth desperately clinging together in the vague shape of a shirt torn from stress at sudden expansion of mass of its wearer, the creature's legs were short and tiny in the shadow of its gigantic arms and torso, the remnants of brown cargo pants hanging from its hips, from its huge shoulders hung a pair of very muscular arms, covered in scar tissue and deep gashes from defending itself.

The beast picked its head up from its meal, dropping the leg it was feeding on and sniffed the air, turning to find the fresh scent of warm blood. Dmitri caught a glance at its face before he ducked behind a tree: its lips drawn back permanently to reveal its large humanoid teeth, eyes sunken into a shadowed hovel of its eye socket, and its bald scalp pulsing with veins. The head itself sat below its shoulders, as the shoulder muscles bulked up over its neck making it hunch over.

Dmitri gripped his pistols tightly, his knuckles bone white and his breathing short and raspy as he pressed his back into the tree, a small sliver of fear worked into his heart at the sight of the Corpse Gorger. The sliver was driven deeper into his heart as the tree Dmitri lent against shook violently. The Gorger banged the tree a second time as he began to move around the trunk to where Dmitri cowered.

Almost instinctively, the Templar ducked out of the way as a huge hand smacked into where his head had been moments before. The impact causing the tree to shudder and fracture. He dashed around the tree and ran into the middle of the clearing with his legs wide and his pistols aimed at the Gorger. The first two Anima rounds made him flinch as he pulled the triggers, propelling the bullets at the Gorger.

It roared in rage as it turned to face the interloped who had interrupted its feast, then charger.

Dmitri panicked and fired another two rounds at the Gorger, missing one completely and the other glancing off its muscular shoulder, before he dashed out of the way at the last minute. He rose to his knees as the Gorger hit a tree at the end of its charge, and the youth smiled, "Well, Mr. Bull, let's play."  
Casting the sliver of fear aside, Dmitri rose to his feet and balanced on the balls of his feet, then when he was steady he let out a high pitched whistle to get the Gorger's attention. The Gorger met the whistle with another cry of rage as it charged at the Templar but was denied its prey at the last moment as Dmitri dashed to the side. It let out a grunt of pain as a pair of Anima rounds hit it in the side, a trickle of blood running down its side.

It turned to face Dmitri again, its movements awkward and its eyes filled with mindless rage. The Gorger charged at the youth again, its massive paws missing the youth by mere centimetres as he moved slightly to the side and ducked beneath the gigantic arm, firing twice at short range into the Gorger's side at rapid succession. At the sudden pain in its side as four Anima rounds impacted it at close range, the Gorger suddenly swung out to where Dmitri stood, flinging him across the clearing, but it lost its footing and crashed into the ground, causing dirt and leaf litter to be flung into the air.

Dmitri was thrown across the clearing, his flight stopped as he was flung into a tree, knocking the breath out of him. Slowly, he rose from his prone position, pain radiating from his left side where it had made contact with both the Gorger's arm and the tree that stopped his twelve meter flight; he looked over to the Gorger and saw that it was nearly on its short stubby legs, so Dmitri began to panic again, pain and fear overriding coherent thought. Quickly, he rose to his feet and set his sights back on the Gorger as it awkwardly shambled towards him. As he went to pull the trigger, a branch rolled under him, his left foot going out.

Dmitri fell back to the ground, his left shoulder hitting the ground and sent a spike of pain through his body. He released his right pistol as he moved to clench his left shoulder, yet already the pain was beginning to recede from his body. A shadow moved over him as the Gorger towered over him, its hands balled together high over its head, ready to descend onto the prone Templar.

Although the sound of Dmitri's heartbeat and breathing filled his ears, a loud crash could be heard across the clearing: a flash of light arced through the trees and hit the Gorger, causing it to take a step back and bring its muscular arm down to protect its head. Moments later, another two bolts arced towards the Gorger, one impacting its elbow, the other its hip, driving it back further.

Dmitri released his shoulder and retrieved his fallen pistol and slowly rose to his feet as another two bolts impacted the Gorger. His eyes followed the bolts back to a figure on the edge of the clearing: her body small and petite, but he could sense she was well built from her body language, her trench coat a deep blue with a large triangle in a lighter blue below her left hip, a gas mask covering her face.

The new contender brought her hands together by her right hip, allowing a dull red glow to grow in her hands before she shot them forward with her wrists together and her palms parallel to each other, her right hand above her left. A large fireball shot from her hands, flying across the clearing and hitting the Corpse Gorger directly. The Gorger fell to the ground, enveloped in flames.

Dmitri rose and strode towards the prone monstrosity, firing his pistols in a flurry of bullets towards his foe. As he fired, Dmitri could feel the grips of his handles begin to warm up, similar to how his sword felt previously before he finished the three zombies by the four wheel drive. As the Gorger began to rise again, his movements unhindered by the storm of Anima fired at him, Dmitri cast his pistols aside and drew his blade, allowing his pace to increase into a charge as he prepared to attack the beast. The Gorger looked up to see Dmitri, mid leap, with his katana aimed directly for its head.

The blade struck home as the Gorger's arm came up to late to catch the Templar mid-air, the beast stood there for a moment before it slowly began to fall backwards, impacting the ground with a solid 'thud'.

Dmitri rose and withdrew his blade from the corpse of the Gorger, then turned to the direction that the Illuminati agent stood, only to find her gone. "Hmm, not very social that one." He said to no one in particular. He then moved to retrieve his pistols after sheathing his blade, the pain in his shoulder completely gone.

The Templar hastily returned to the road, his path taking him directly to the police car.

He approached the car again and went to open the door; he half expected something else to jump out at him as he did so, but nothing attacked him as he opened the door and retrieved the assorted rounds of ammunition, placing the rounds in his backpack via the bottom pocket so he wouldn't have to take the bag off.

Dmitri continued down the road, past the vehicles and headed to the closest corner of the Police Station: Outside the makeshift barricade stood a large green sign, which used to read "Kingsmouth. Ahead" with an arrow directing travellers to the right towards the police station. A hastily written "D" now covered the start of the second word, written in blood so the sign now read, "Kingsmouth. Dead."

Dmitri shook his head and moved past the sign to continue his mission.

At the end of the road, Dmitri could see the Sheriff's office: its dark blue walls mirroring the dark sky above, with a makeshift blockade at its main gates. The youth passed by the blockade made of tables, cars, and steel wire, the survivor on guard duty waving him through to the sheriff. As Dmitri passed through the haven, he could see that no more than 25 people were in the courtyard, many of which armed with firearms but half a dozen cowering by the cars that reinforced the weak wire fences that once surrounded the Sheriff's office.

The youth entered the office and approached a woman in a police uniform, her weary form sitting behind a desk sifting through papers and maps. "Sheriff?" Dmitri assumed as his voice snapped her out of her paperwork.


	12. Kingsmouth - The Fog

Oooh, the plot thickens! I wonder whats going to happen with Dmitri and his two mysterious "colleagues"

Why am I wondering? Thats for you readers to do ^_^ DFTBA, and I hope you guys like this, and all remember to R&R :D

* * *

The older woman looked up at the youth before her and let out a sign of relief. "Heck if I know where you folks keep coming from; but if anyone who walk through that door alive pretty much gets my amnesty. If something in your past colours you sourly to badge, you're lucky. Out here, we have bigger things to deal with." She rose slowly from her chair, her muscles slowly betraying her from strain and age and her gently American accent dulled with weariness. She stretched for a moment, then held out her hand to the Templar.

"Lucky I'm not a criminal then, Dmitri Rozenov." Dmitri took the hand and shook it. The Sherriff's grip was firm and unyielding, but still kind and protective.

"Well then, I'm Sherriff Bannerman, and this down-home little state of emergency is what's left of my jurisdiction." The Sherriff let go of his hand and slowly stepped back to lean against her desk, a small pile of papers slipping from its neat stack to slip towards the centre of the desk. "Sure we tried to hold as much of the town as we could at first, more out of nostalgia than any civil defence plan. I won't tell you Kingsmouth was any slice of heaven in a snow globe, but it was ours; now it ain't."

She took out a small coin and started to spin it in her hand, her eyes staring absently into the corner of the room with her eyebrows twisted in a frown. "There was always something running under in this town, maybe that's what spilled out now. If that's how it works, I couldn't say we didn't have it coming. But that fog, and the things in it, they didn't pick and choose when they came in. Most folks didn't stand a chance." She snapped out of her daze again, her voice slowly trailing out towards the end of her last sentence. Bannerman's eyes rose to meet Dmitri's, her gaze tired and full of dread.

"Now, I can see you're armed, I won't kick up a fuss about that. Straight truth is you'll need to be. Just don't go thinking that means you're deputised or such. Heaven knows, if there was ever a time or place to bear 'em, you're looking at it. Henry has his work of god, that Rogêt woman has her crystal ball, and Norma out on the point as a 12-guage. My money's on Norma."

The Sherriff slowly turned and returned to her chair, scooping the papers back up into their stack. "Save travels."

"Stay safe, Sherriff." Dmitri nodded to her and turned to leave her office, taking it in properly for the first time. Off to the Sherriff's right, a man in a lab coat laboured over a wounded man with a huge claw mark raking down his chest. He was squirming and moaning under the careful ministrations of the doctor.

The rest of her office, which seemed to take up most of the open area of the station, had papers, ammunition, firearms, first aid supplies, and dried blood chaotically mixed around the room, with two camp mattresses to the right and the makeshift hospital bed to the left, with what seemed to be a single call and supply closet to the left of the Templar as he walked away from the Sherriff.

Dmitri exited the station and entered the fortified courtyard. As he looked around, he noticed that it was in a similar state to that of the Sherriff's office: weapons and ammunition scattered haphazardly, oil drums flickering with flame for warmth and light, cars with headlights on pointing towards the two entrances of the fortified area; at least half a dozen armed militia occupied the small encampment, with four times that number cowering in and around a school bus deep in the haven, with random pools of dried blood littering the asphalt.

"Hey you, red guy!" A voice cried out from above, Dmitri looked up to the roof of the station behind him to see a young man in a police uniform leaning over the edge of the roof, his leg resting on a small pile of sand bags and a hunting rifle slung over his shoulder. "Come up here, will ya'?"

Dmitri made his way up to the rooftop and looked around from the vantage point: to the North and West lay forests and mountains, to the South and East lay Kingsmouth town and the harbor; farther off North-East, Dmitri noticed a large steel structure and took note of taking a closer look.

"Well now, if you're done taking in the scenery, welcome to Kingsmouth. I'm Andy, one of Sherriff Bannerman's chief deputies. Basically I'm here to make sure things are done right." He said firmly, the smile spread across his face failing to lessen just how serious he was. "Namely: If you find any gear that you aren't using, bring it back here; that includes food, ammo, and guns. If you don't need it, we'll happily take it."

Andy waited for Dmitri to nod before continuing. "Secondly, whilst yes, you can come here if you're in trouble, please refrain from bringing large mobs back with you. We can't deal with more than a few dozen, okay?" Dmitri nodded again, to which Andy gleefully clapped his hands together. "Okay, if you need support, use channel 66, if you aren't too far out we may be able to help. Happy hunting." Andy unclipped a radio from his belt and handed it to the Templar before returning to his snipers nest.

Dmitri accepted the radio and clipped it onto his own belt before taking off his pack to retrieve the ammunition he recovered from the blood stained police car. "Hey Andy, Sherriff Bannerman said "You Folks" before. Am I the only one to randomly come crashing through?" He asked as he handed the ammunition to Andy.

"Last I can remember, three of you folks have come through here recently. A young woman in a blue trench coat and a man fully covered in green wearing a silk scarf. Why? They your buddies?"

"That, or they may be competition. Thanks Andy." Dmitri concluded before giving an informal salute and turning to leave the rooftop.

The first thing Dmitri noticed as he left the barricade was the eerie silence of the township; the absence of people, of birds, and even insects setting his hair on edge. The Templar turned right immediately as he left the barricade in an attempt of taking the shortest route to Norma Creed, the woman the Sherriff seemed to emphasise in their talk.

Half way down the street he walked, Dmitri heard a familiar sound emerge from an alley to his right - the sound of bees. He paused cautiously, his knees bent in a defensive stance, as he surveyed the alleyway.

The Templar passed through the alley untouched, his blade drawn and silent pace steady, to emerge through a wooden gate into a small park enclosed by houses on three sides. The darkened houses formed an alcove with backdoors barred and lights off.

The ground of the park was fully covered in luscious grass, the occasional flower stubbornly clinging to life in the soil of small flowerbeds around the edge. A large well of golden light erupted from the undisturbed soil in the centre of the garden, flowers and tree roots creeping out from its centre. As Dmitri approached the fountain, he felt a similar feeling to that of Agartha - the warmth and comfort of the light soothed and reassured him, pushing the eerie feeling from his mind. He relaxed, feeling safe in the golden light of the Anima well and its pristine garden.

As Dmitri's mind began to drift into the endless stream of calm unconsciousness, a voice hung on the edge of his hearing, amplified by the faint vibration of his watch. As he relaxed and his mind sharped, the tiredness lessened and he snapped back into focus as the watch's vibrations increased, and the voice let out a hungry moan.

The youth rolled away from the source of the moan, using the momentum from the roll to jump from his prone position to a kneeling position, his right knee still on the ground with his hands instinctually gripping his blade. As Dmitri's eyes scanned the garden, his view passed over two figures standing in the gateway, paused uneasily at the threshold to the garden.

Dmitri rose from his kneeling position and drew his blade, the razor-sharp tip occasionally scraping the grass as he cautiously crossed the garden towards the pair of zombies. The grip on his blade stayed loose so he could act instantly and without hesitation. The two zombies stood just outside the threshold of the garden, staring awkwardly at their prey. They almost looked confused as they stood swaying, unable to move past the threshold of the garden.

The Templar moved a meter away from the two zombies, taking in the situation before he drew his pistol and fired an Anima round through the head of the first undead creature. The second had a moment to moan a challenge before it to fell. "Curious." Dmitri muttered before he stepped over the two motionless corpses, sheathing his blade and holstering his pistol as he made his way back to the street.

Dmitri turned left and continued down the road he was on, heading straight to the harbor; as he walked, the youth noticed multiple figures, perhaps two dozen at least by his reckoning, moving around the shallow water of the harbor. Some shambled and splashed awkwardly, whilst others seemed to glide over the surface of the water without so much as a ripple.

He continued down the road and turned right, passing a sign that read "Poe Cove" that pointed into the darkness in front of him. As Dmitri began to pass the sign, he heard another moan behind him; he turned suddenly and let his hand drop automatically to his blade. Before him stood a derelict service station, the roof covering the fuel pumps half collapsed and the windows shattered from the outside, leaving a dark emptiness inside.

Dmitri drew both his pistols and moved closer to the station, his pistols upright in a guarding position; as he passed the fuel pumps, a face emerged from the darkness, its eyes hungry and its jaw dripping with fresh blood. The zombie leapt at Dmitri, its single arm outstretched to capture its prey.

The youth panicked and brought both pistols down and fired at the zombie, missing the first shot but landing the second round in the zombie's stub of a shoulder. The undead creature recoiled before charging the youth again, followed by another three undead citizens. Dmitri leapt back, firing two shots at each zombie, keeping them at bay with the recoil of the hits; as he gripped his pistols tighter, the Templar felt his pistols heat up again, teeming with energy as he fired the first 10 rounds.

Dmitri grimaced as his back leg moved behind him and his knees bent slightly, his centre of mass low as he fired continuously at the 4 undead creatures, releasing the energy teeming from his twin pistols. The zombies met the flurry of Anima rounds head on, the lead zombie taking two in the chest and one in the head almost instantly at near point blank range; the two zombies either side of the leader fell as well, each taking a shot to the chest and head. The final zombie shoved its fallen comrade aside and bound for Dmitri, its long fingernails reaching for his flesh.

The Templar swayed to the side to avoid the incoming claws and dropped the pistol in his left hand; he spun the pistol in his right hand so that he was holding the barrel instead of the grip and swung it towards the zombie, holding the creature steady by the throat with his free hand. A wet 'squish' resounded through the street as the butt of the pistol struck the zombie's temple, fracturing the weakened bone and causing the creature to fall limp in Dmitri's grip. As it collapsed, Dmitri's fallen pistol hit the asphalt with a metallic rasp, bounced once before settling at the Templar's feet.

He let the zombie drop and looked at the small pile of corpses at his feet: among them was a one armed business with a torn and bloodstained suit, a male teenager wearing normal yet bloodstained clothes, a middle aged man wearing a uniform that matched the logo on the storefront with teeth wounds that looked much fresher than its companions, and a young woman wearing a short dress with huge gashes screaking down her left arm and the right side of her neck.

Dmitri took a step back and shook his head before he muttered "Such a waste." The skin of the back of his prickled, and he heard a quiet sound behind him - a near inaudible breath from water stricken lungs. The youth began to turn to face the noise as a large spike of pain suddenly shot up his leg, tearing his flesh from his ankle to just below his knee as a sharp object pierced his skin and tore his muscles.

The wounded Templar fell to the ground as his leg collapsed under his weight, eyes clouded from tears of pain. Dmitri brought his left hand around to fire at the new threat, only to find it empty.

"God damn it!" He cursed, looking up to view this new threat: the creature, at least 6'9", towered over Dmitri, a large barnacled spike replaced its right arm, its narrow tip dripping with fresh blood before it tapered into a broad blade, a meter long and a third of that wide. Its entire body was covered in leathery skin the colour of a stormy sea, and its eyes filled with malevolent, dark hatred rather than primal hunger.

He dove to the side, a groan of pain escaping his lips as his injured leg began to take some weight. He rose to his feet, his balance shifting to his left to take the weight off his injured leg.

The creature in front of him grinned viciously as it plunged its spike into the ground, the gravel rippling slightly as a pulse emitted between the creature and the Templar. Something inside Dmitri screamed a warning and he threw himself forward to evade a large barnacled spike erupting from the ground behind him.

The spike grazed Dmitri's back, its point tearing flesh parallel to his spine, missing it by a few inches to the left. Dmitri called out in pain and dove to the side, his shoulder impacting the asphalt harshly as he came to a stop.

Dmitri rolled to his stomach and wearily rose to his knees, his body weight resting on his left knee as his wounded leg rested before him, upright for support. Out of the corner of his eye Dmitri noticed something: through the tattered fabric of his uniform, the wound on his leg was gone, replaced by pink scar tissue. An idea pulsed through Dmitri's mind, the same "All or Nothing" gambit that the Templar was infamous for in his old life. His hand reached for the hilt of his blade, the other resting on the ground in front of him for more stability.

The creature strode towards its kneeling prey, its gargantuan gait quickly crossing the few meters between them. As it approached the kneeling figure, the creature raised its spike, poised to strike at the Templar. The creature thrust its spike forward into the figure, its sharp point poised for his heart. The moment before the spike touched the Templar, Dmitri shifted to the side so that the barb pierced through the empty air between his torso and arm; the youth's arm wrapped around the spike and held it tightly, the creature pinned within arm's reach.

Grimacing, Dmitri drew and thrust his sword clean through the creature's chest, its heart cloven in two with the strike. After a moment of thoughtlessness, the creature's body began to fall; its momentum carrying it past Dmitri's left side. As the creature fall, the spike twisted in the Templar's grip, its rough edge ripping flesh and splintering bone from both Dmitri's upper arm and ribcage. A torrent of warm blood erupted from the fresh wounds on his torso as the Templar cried out at the sudden agony of the wound; his breathing was laboured, each movement caused him pain.

The Templar rose to his feet, his left arm pinned against his torso with all the will he had left to try to quell the bleeding; he slowly sheathed his sword and made to retrieve his pistols, holstering his right pistol but keeping the other in his right hand in case another creature attacked him. Dmitri kicked the creature spitefully before he continued down the road to Norma Creed's house, holding his side.

He limped around the side of the closest house, peering around each corner to check for danger. Satisfied he was safe for the moment, the wounded Templar collapsed at the centre of the house, back sliding down the rough wood till he was sitting on the ground. He dropped his pistol next to his leg, and ran his hand over his chest, searching for wounds.

Dmitri gasped in pain as a multiple ribs moved under his light ministrations, the jagged edges of the fractured bones grazing against his flesh, other bones, and his lung. The Templar took a deep breath and relaxed despite the pain, his lung wheezing audibly around the rib that pieced it. As he breathed in, Dmitri noticed that the pain drained away from him, as did the absence of feeling from his fingers.

Instead of everything getting darker, his thoughts started to clear and the Templar felt almost normal despite his extensive wounds. Dmitri opened his eyes and examined his chest, lifting his arm away, flecks of dried blood flaking into the floor. He watched in amazement as the wound began to heal, muscle then pale skin creeping across the splintered bones to vanish into healthy, unblemished skin. "Wow." He muttered quietly under his breath as his breath was stolen from him; the Templar carefully pressed his fingers against his side, the solid feeling of his undamaged ribs meeting him. "Ok, now that's cool." He said in wonder, his fingertips touching around where his wound was, meeting only healthy skin.

A flash of memory pulsed though the youths mind and he quickly examined his calf, to which he found no sign of the gash that had covered the entire side of his lower leg. Multiple small fibres of leather hung in the void where the spike sliced through it previously, holding the two sides of the hole together. "Interesting." He muttered, a gust of cold air brushing over his skin, an invisible reminder of why he was there.

Dmitri stood and stretched all of his muscles, the stiffness that usually followed combat absent with no feeling of pain anywhere throughout his body, his breathing showing no sign of his injury.

Dmitri holstered his remaining pistol and activated his watch, bringing the map interface up on his wrist. He followed the map around the south corner of the house he stood before and approached the Creed house. He strode cautiously up the driveway, pausing momentarily between the fence posts marking Norma's property.

Dmitri ran up the driveway to the Creed house, pausing momentarily between the fence posts marking Norma's property. Before him stood a large, two story building with dark wood walls and open windows, with very little structural damage or signs of fortification; to Dmitri's left was a large bonfire, filled with wood and burning flesh. An older woman stood in the light and warmth, her dark hair weakly reflecting the orange glow of the flames, and her dark pink sweater covering her pink polka-dot shirt. In her hand she held a 12 gauge shotgun comfortably and lightly, as though she knew how to use it. 'Annabeth would like her' He thought as he noticed the blood stains scattered across her clothing, signs that she isn't as frail as she might appear.

The woman turned to face Dmitri, shotgun still held casually but held so that it can be used at a moment's notice. "Well now, I'm not in much fit for entertaining, but I reckon you ain't much in the mood for hospitality either, am I right? Not a big talker, eh? I'm used to that from a surly husband and kids more comfortable jacking a ball around than having a conversation with their Ma. Names Norma: Norma Creed." She took a step forward and shook Dmitri's hand before moving back to lean against one of the supports on her porch. "Dmitri." The youth offered as he shook her hand.

"Raised a family up here, before this dungeon thick fog came took 'em, is my story. Helen sent you over to check on me, I reckon. Now you're wicked kind, but I don't need any pityin'. I got my shotgun. I got what's left of my wits. Ill manage." Norma shook her shotgun slightly, her grip tightening around it reassuringly as though it was an anchor to reality.

"Now this hullabaloo began after the Lady Margaret came back. My husband Larry, the others, we all thought they'd gone missing out there. That the sea took em. Day they came back, the whole town could finally breathe again. But then came that fog, like it was following them back to shore."

Norma looked up into the dark, turmoil sky as she said: "'Twas right, said they, such birds to slay, that bring the fog and mist." Before bringing her face back to Dmitri.

"Very poetic." The youth uttered.

"Don't ask me where I got that from, probably heard it on Oprah. Never got to ask Larry about what happened those weeks they were gone, been around gift horses long enough not to look em in the mouth. He was back. Thought life would go on like life goes on, one day at a time." Norma uttered with conviction, her shoulders straightened and her head rose triumphantly as she mustered what little pride she could before she wearily pushed herself upright and moved past the Templar to her fence post, facing the harbor. "When the fog lifts enough to see the Lady Margaret laid up in the harbor, covered in that red seaweed, I always wonder if he's still be here if I had."


	13. Kingsmouth - The Lady Margaret

Well, sorry for the delay Beekeepers! Uni has been a pain and I had to do a fair amount of research to make sure I didn't accidentally kill our Templar.

Still, chapters out, and I hope you all love it! DFTBA and please dont forget to review :)

* * *

Dmitri's eyes followed Norma's gaze out to the harbor, the fog clearing for a moment to reveal a single vessel moored to the large jetty. "Is that her?" He asked calmly, his eyes straining to focus on the craft properly.

"Aye, that's her, the _Lady Margaret_." She muttered quietly under her breath. Her gaze remained on the _Lady Margaret_ as she spoke, her voice just loud enough to carry to the Templar.

"I'll look into it." Dmitri promised as he began to move off down the driveway. Halfway down, he turned back to the old woman. "Norma, it wasn't your fault. Remember that." The Templar descended the small rise that led to the Creed estate. Behind him he could hear the faint sound of sobbing, cut short by the cocking of Norma's shotgun.

The youth quickly descended onto the road called 'Poe Cove', cautiously approaching the edge of the road that bordered on the harbor. He kept his head down and moved up to the small concrete wall separating the road from the harbor. Above him, a sign labelled 'Fletcher Cove' pointed off into the swirling fog. As he leaned up against the 3 foot tall wall, Dmitri looked out to the harbor; he could see that the harbor itself was only at half tide, with about 10 meters of wet sand separating the concrete boardwalk from the waterline.

About two dozen bodies shambled around the bay before him, all of which the same leathery grey skin, with an assortment of genders and armaments. There were about 5 female Draug who didn't carry any weapons or obvious mutations, their sleek bodies draped in seaweed and other algaes. Of the males there were three different variants of the Draug: the Impalers, the Maulers, and the Carriers. Each of the male Draug had their own defining characteristics. The 7 Impalers carried large barbs rather than their right arms, these barbs painfully familiar to the Templar. The 6 Maulers each had their right forearm and hand replaced with a huge barnacled club, reaching from their elbow to ankle. Dmitri estimated the club to be able a foot in thickness at its base and about 3 feet long assuming the Maulers are as tall as the Impalers. The 6 Carriers were dwarfed by their brothers, their back hunched over, causing them to stand a mere 5'3" tall. On their back grew a large pod, many of which already dotted the sandy beach. Each pod looked like it could hold a person, its slimy flaps closely resembling a closed flower bud.

Dmitri moved his gaze to the lone ship moored at the jetty, the _Lady Margaret_. The ship was an old fishing vessel, her hull designed for stormy seas and long voyagers, both her netting arm and railings spotted with red seaweed. The hull itself seemed to be intact, its keel resting against the harbor floor with the tide out like it is, the water barely half a meter deep.

On the outside of the harbor, past the large concrete breakwater protecting the harbor, the youth could faintly make out large pillars, their gargantuan forms swaying on the foggy ocean.

The Templar rose from his kneeling position and took a few steps back to take the entire harbor into view, his mind plotting the movements of the Draug inhabiting its waters. Dmitri stood there for a few moments, his mind processing the patterns and potential tactics of his foe. The Templar swayed to the left, allowing his momentum to turn his body, feet catching up as he headed towards the point that connected the jetty to the wharf, a small walkway of about 5 meters across where people had relaxed by the seaside in a past life.

Dmitri kept his head low as he passed the petrol station and two small buildings on the boardwalk, a fish and chips shop, and a tourist Information stall before he approached the jetty the _Lady Margaret_ was moored on. The Templar paused on the intersection of Elm Street and Poe Cove, just after he passed the petrol station and let his hands fall to his pistols. He sensed everything was quiet, unnervingly quiet.

The youth slowly paced forward down the street labelled Belmont Avenue as it ran past the harbor, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end as he heard the sound of wet, meaty crunching to his right. He drew his blade and cautiously edged his way past the first harbor side store: the fish and chips store called "The Old Harbor Shrimp Shack". As he passed the store, a small group of people, no more than half a dozen, gathered around a single point between the two stores, their arms grabbing and clawing at the object they surround. Dmitri shuddered at the sight of sight, unsure what he should do.

The Templar drew one of his pistols and aimed at the small group, then coughed. The group paused, then one listed its head to view the disruption to their feast. The man was in his mid-thirties, was wearing a leather jacket, and had fresh blood cover his brown goatee and the rest of his chin. Dmitri sighed and pulled the trigger, an anima round aimed directly at the zombie's forehead, destroying the back of its skull before it collapsed onto its former meal.

The other four zombies leapt to their feet and charged at the Templar. Dmitri stood his ground and fired at the closest zombie, focusing his fire on its upper torso for either a headshot to put it down, or a shoulder shot to stun it and give the Templar extra time before it was upon him.

The zombie went down after three shots, the final piercing its neck and destroying its spine, reducing it to a near immobile body. As the lead zombie collapsed, the zombie immediately behind it tripped on its prone body and fell on a third zombie, resulting in three of the zombies on the ground with the fourth still charging.

The Templar smirked as the fourth zombie was upon him moments after the lead zombie was downed. He took a sidestep and cleaved the zombie in two, his anima charged blade slicing the undead flesh cleanly and easily, a weak blue flame trailing behind his blade as it was thrust up through the zombie.

He confidently walked up to the remaining two moving zombies and swiftly put them down, placing his boot on their neck before he put an anima round through its head. Dmitri shook the zombies out of his mind, the nagging thoughts of the people they once were attempting to corrupt his resolve, the bodies of the zombies suddenly becoming more human in death; the young woman in a nice dress, an older man in overalls and fishermen's overalls, a teenaged boy in jeans and a hoodie, and another man in a suit behind him, a large scorched schism separating his torso from armpit to shoulder.

He turned to the object the zombies were feasting on: a small child with short pink hair wearing pink cat ears, no more than 11 years old. Her pink dress and blue sweater was tattered, torn, and drenched in her blood. In her hand she held a small bear, its stomach sewed shut and its right eye missing. Lying a small distance from her corpse lay a small pink backpack with a small panda face on each strap, and a larger panda face on the back of the pack. The Templar sighed and turned away from the gruesome scene, the grip on his blade tightening and his pistol falling back into its holster.

Dmitri took a breath and sighed as he turned back and picked up the bear, determined to tell Sherriff Bannerman the fate of the child. On the bear had a small tag with a single word: Tibbers. Must be the name the girl gave her bear. A spike of sorrow hit his heart as he looked at the bear, its former owner's blood staining its fabric.

The Templar snapped his mind back into focus, supressing his emotions as he shook his head and pushed the bear through the bottom opening of his bag. "Don't get attached." He muttered under his breath as he turned from the corpses and continued north east along the bay.

He passed by a damaged car, thin trails of smoke emerging from the car's engine. The youth kept his head low, the white sedan proving the Templar cover as he passed by another Draug standing guard on a nearby jetty.

"Give me a break." The Templar muttered quietly to himself as he saw his target, The _Lady Margaret_ , on the end of the biggest jetty in the harbor, and guarded by at least three Draug and four lone zombies. The zombies looked different to those on the streets, their skin wet and bloated.

Dmitri shook his head again and look at his watch, he counted those seven on the jetty, and another four in the water nearby. He recalled the analysis he performed earlier and estimated that the Draug were far enough apart that he might be able to kill some of them silently and make it through undetected. He holstered his pistol and held his blade comfortably in his hands, then stood and moved past a building called "Susie's Diner". He could hear some faint noise inside, but no sign that he was detected.

He crossed the next street, Main Street according to the sign on the intersection, and took cover behind another car, this one a black jeep, and sized up his foes. Of the three Draug he'd have to handle, two of them were Impalers, and one a Mauler, with an Impaler at the mouth of the jetty. Dmitri waited a few moments so that the monsters in the water were safely away from the jetty before he made his move. He quickly crossed the gap between him and the first Draug, its evil eyes meeting his moments before Dmitri was in striking range.

Instinct took over for the next few moments. The Draug thrust forward, its barb aimed to impale the youth through his side. He sidestepped and thrust up though its heart quickly, the evil in its eyes dying out slowly before Dmitri caught its lifeless body and silently dropped it to the ground. Dmitri took a deep breath, which was difficult for him with the smell of sea-ridden, rotten flesh filling his nose, and calmed every part of his body. Dmitri was raised with a rare talent - he had the ability to shut out everything and lived only in the moment, which was decidedly useful at times like this.

Dmitri moved onto his next target: A Draug Mauler, its large clubbed fist scrapping across the wooden boards of the Jetty. The Templar moved towards it rapidly and quickly slashed at its throat with a thrust. The cut was shallow but served its purpose, it severed the Draug's larynx and voice box, silencing the monster. The next cut was along the upper arm of the Draug's club arm as the blade arced over its head and down past its shoulder, its tough flesh hampering the blades' ability to sever the arm.

The Draug spun around in rage and tried to bring its club to bear, but could hardly move the arm. It used the momentum of its body to swing the club at the Templar. Dmitri blocked it with his own blade, and was pushed back a foot by the sheer weight of the club. He stepped in and moved inside the swing of the club, his blade poised to thrust through the Draug's heart, but was pushed back when the fist from the Draug's other arm made contact with the Templar's shoulder.

Dmitri cursed the Draug and lunged again, his blade making three slashes across the Draug's torso, the first and last causing damage to the Draug's human arm, the other damaging the Draug's club arm. With each slash, Dmitri could feel energy build in his blade, the familiar tingle of anima building in its hilt. Dmitri released all that energy in one slash, slicing the Draug from right hip to left shoulder, cutting its heart clean in half. The youth tried to catch the Draug before it made too much noise, but only succeeded in masking the noise, its solid club arm hitting the wood with a muffled thud.

The youth took a momentary break as he knelt beside the fallen Draug. He could feel his shoulder begin to heal almost instantly, the pain slowly subsiding and the bones mending. Dmitri didn't register the pain of the fracture whilst he was fighting the Draug, now he clenched his shoulder as it mended the break and relieved some of the pain.

He began to move again thirty seconds later, the pain in his shoulder still registering, but significantly reduced. He quickly crossed the difference to one of the fallen sailors, his fisherman garb distinct and sodden; the zombie moaned quietly, sensing a nearby presence. Dmitri stepped forward and severed its head from its body, the blazing blade leaving steaming flesh around the wound on both the head and torso.

Dmitri caught the body again, its head rolling harmlessly on the wooden planks. Now that he was closer, the Templar could see traces of oceanic wildlife on the sailor's body, including barnacles and anemone. He rose to his feet again and dashed to the next target: another Draug Impaler standing at the mouth of the main jetty. The jetty itself had a long walkway, about 20 meters or so by the Templars estimation. It would be able to harbor four medium sized boats along its edges, then a large stretch of boardwalk that made the jetty form a "T" that could harbor another 4 vessels along its perimeter, the northern corner inhabited by a small Fish and Chips shack. At the end of this jetty lay the Templar's target: The _Lady Margaret_.

The youth rapidly crossed the short distance between himself and the Impaler. As he got within striking distance, the Templar saw something that made his stomach churn: there was the faintest hint of a smile on the Draug's face. Suddenly, the Draug spun around and brought his bard to bear against the youth, his blade brought up just in time to ward off the fatal blow. The ancient barb sliced the air above Dmitri's head, a faint keening reached the Templar's ears from the small depressions in the natural weapon.

The Templar stepped into the guard of the Draug, coming within centimetres of its torso, and drove his blade through its left breast. A faint residue of flame manifested on the blade as it penetrated the Draug's leathery hide, with minor scorch marks emerging around the wound. The Draug slowly sank to its knees, its human hand grasping at the blade that penetrated its heart in a feeble attempt to remove it. Dmitri twisted the blade and all signs of life left the Draug as it collapsed against the boards.

"I guess I've overstayed my welcome." The Templar muttered as he crouched beside the fallen Draug, its hand still firmly grasping his blade. He withdrew it and surveyed the area in front of him: the shack stood to his left, discarded cardboard boxes littering the back of the shop, with the remainder of the water-sodden zombies mingling mindlessly around its front, and the _Lady Margaret_ , directly in front of him.

He silently approached the _Lady Margaret_ , faint creaking of rotting wood following his footsteps. The ship was moored to the jetty by two large, heavy duty ropes hanging limp from rusty bollards, and a small, one-man bridge hanging between the jetty and gap in the railing. Dmitri slowly crossed the bridge and stepped onto the boat. It was a standard vessel for its size: the deck was large and open, a large opening at the stern railing of the boat to allow water to wash off the deck, a large hatch to access the storage bay in the hull, and an elevated cabin with a single ladder up, undoubtedly where both the cockpit and living quarters are located.

Dmitri scoured the surface of the ship for clues pertaining to his investigation, his search revealing large amounts of red seaweed and other assorted oceanic flora growing on the rails and recesses of the ship.

A faint sound emanated from the ship's cabin, a low gurgle as well as a door creeping open on a warped wooden frame. From the darkness of the cabin emerged a lone figure: his flesh sodden and rotting like the drowned sailors behind him. A large coral formation grew from his back, his garb semi-formal for a sailor - the captain of the _Lady Margaret_.

The Captain let out an unholy screech and rapidly shambled down the stairs to the deck, its arms outstretched for the Templar.

Dmitri readied himself for the assault, his knees dropping him slightly in his stance as be brought the blade up to strike. He held blade with both hands, just in front of his left shoulder with his weight on his back foot. He could feel the energy of his body change in this stance, his Anima strengthening his defence.

The Templar waited the few moments it took the Captain to awkwardly shamble down the stairs and across the deck, then sidestepped to the right and cut down the back of the Captain as he dove for where the Templar once stood. The Templars' flame clad blade cut into the large coral formation protruding out of the Captain's left shoulder, part of the coral shattering but otherwise leaving the Captain sprawling across the deck unharmed.

The Captain growled at the empty air it clenched in its rubbery hands, then quickly rose to its feet and stumbled back to its prey. Small quantities of vile green liquid overflowed from its mouth, bubbling against the Captain's chin and throat. Dmitri stood his ground and tightened the grip on his blade as the Captain approached again.

For the next few moments, the two fighters exchanged a series of rapid blows; the Captain mindlessly attempting to penetrate its prey's defences with its outstretched fingers, and the Templar using his agility and discipline to ward off each attack and retaliate, his blade dealing moderate damage across the Captain's torso, but inflicting no lethal damage.

As Dmitri tried to cut across the stomach of his undead opponent, it propelled vile smelling liquid from its mouth with enough force to graze the Templar's shoulder, and cover a fair portion of the deck and railing behind him. Dmitri's stomach wretched as a vile smell filled all of his senses; his eyes watering at the intensity of the smell and his right shoulder burning as the stomach acids slowly burned through his flesh.

Subconsciously, Dmitri's left hand rose to cradle his injured shoulder and wipe off as much of the excess acid as he could before it could do more damage. He bit down on his lip to quell a cry of pain, knowing even subconsciously that too much noise could be the death of him.

As his hand cradled his wounded shoulder, the Templar could feel the energy in his body shift, streams of anima flowing through his arteries and into the wounded tissue, dulling the pain and fighting the acid that ravaged his flesh. He could still feel damage, several muscles feeling sluggish as he tried to bring the blade up to ward off a clawed hand outstretched to rend his flesh.

The Templar pushed with all his might, his exertion forcing the Captain away from him and onto the deck. He tried to grip his blade tighter, his thumb numbed from the wound in his shoulder. As the Captain rose to its feet and charged again, time seemed to freeze for the Templar, the rise and fall of his chest slowing to a fraction of what it was, the Captain suspended where it stood. He could feel nothing else, see nothing else, know nothing else, except the Captain opposed from him, and the blade in his hand.

Dmitri closed his eyes and exhaled deeply, his lungs empty as his body lunged forward and to the side, strafing to his right as he brought his anima infused blade to strike the charging Captain. The flame clad blade rose rapidly and made contact with the Captains outstretched hands, its wrists cut through as though they were air, not rotten flesh and congealed blood.

The two combatants tumbled away from each other, the Captain thrown off balance by the strike, and the Templar rolling away from his foe. Dmitri rolled to his feet and pivoted on his back foot to face the Captain, whom had taken a few moments to rise to its feet with its back to the Templar. Dmitri leapt towards his foe, his blade poised to strike the Captain; anima burst from the Templar's feet, propelling him rapidly towards his foe, and plunging the Templar's blade through the Captains back and into his heart.

The Captain fell forward, Dmitri pulling his blade out just before the Captain tumbled over the edge of the railing and hit the water with a loud splash. Several hostile eyes rose to view the _Lady Margaret_ , alerted by the sudden noise, but unable to see the Templar before he ducked for cover and crouched in the centre of the deck.

Moments after Dmitri knelt in the centre of the deck, the world shifted back into the Templar's focus: he could smell the putrid smell of vomit on the deck, feel the damp fog against his skin, and the lifelessness of his right shoulder and arm. The arm weakly clenched his blade, his thumb barely holding it in his grasp.

Dmitri moved his blade to his left hand, his heart beating erratically from fear. He could feel more of his body slowly going numb as a toxin spread from his wounded shoulder. Dmitri crossed the deck to the ladder and limped up to the upper level, his blade kept close in his off hand and his right hand hanging limp.

He quickly approached the entrance to the cabin and moved inside, placing his blade on one of the counters so he could close and lock the door to the cabin. He quietly moved to the other side of the cabin with his blade back in hand, his breath rugged and his chest weakly rising and falling as he crossed the cabin.

Dmitri collapsed against the wall directly opposite the locked cabin door, his vision blurred as the toxin spread from his shoulder. He reached around to his bag and managed to wrap his fingers weakly around the one item that might save his life - the radio. His fingers clumsily activated it, he could feel his body succumbing to the poison that now slowly spread through his veins, his anima slowing the toxin but not halting it. He began broadcasting his location, his voice raspy and barely understandable. He very deliberately said the words " _Lady Margaret_ , Poisoned, Need Assistance," three times before his voice finally fell away from him. His vision blurred and slowly began to fade into darkness as the paralytic toxin reached his brain, the world around him falling to darkness as he lay limp against the cold, sodden wood of the cabin wall.

Then, the Templars' vision went black, and he fell into the abyss.


	14. Krampus Break!

Good Evening Beekeepers!

Sorry ive been gone for so long, its been HECTIC few months

Just here to say that I haven't forgotten about you all! Ive got a huge chapter in the works rn, might even be big enough to classify as its own short story!

Ill get it done ASAP, should give alot of insight into the more recent histories of The Secret World!

Happy hunting! Try not to die out there, Beekeepers! And a Merry Christmas, or Happy Hanukkah, or whatever holidays you hold dear this time of year!


End file.
